In Uncharted Waters
by b'shert
Summary: AU. Stef and Lena adopt Callie (13) and Jude (8), who have been through several homes. The women face the trials and tribulations of learning to parent Callie as she pushes back against their boundaries and jeopardizes her parole as a result. Will they be able to help her through her grief, find her place in the family, and learn to accept their love? Mother/daughter fic
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _Flashback_

 _"Callie, I'm giving you one more chance to come clean about how many classes you've skipped. I highly recommend you take it," Stef said impatiently as the teen slumped further down into the passenger seat of the SUV. She gripped the steering wheel just a little more tightly to cope, feeling her temper rise at the recollection of Callie chain-smoking on the pier like some hoodlum with Wyatt. Had it not been school hours, the cop would have been a little more forgiving; of all people, she understood teenage curiosity and experimentation. However, her and Lena had drilled the value of education into all their kids and cutting class was simply not tolerated. And because Callie was still on probation, unexcused absences were absolutely something that her Parole Officer would scrutinize—something they all wanted to avoid._

 _Barring a bit of attitude and not answering their attempts to reach her on the cell phone they had given her, Callie had been fairly easy to manage since coming into their home. But slowly, she had begun to wade into the sort of trouble with more serious repercussions, which so far included missing curfew and covertly trading her pants for a new pair of jeans in the change rooms while at the mall with Mariana. Now, Callie was skipping and smoking._

 _"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Stef snapped, floored at both Callie's demeanour and refusal to talk._

 _Exasperated with the girl for remaining silent, she called Lena's direct line. "Alright. Let's see what we're dealing with here, then."_

 _"Hi honey," Lena's voice came through the Bluetooth. "Did you get off work early?"_

 _"Yes, you could say that," Stef replied in a clipped tone. "I have one of our children sitting in the car with me right now. Care you hazard a guess as to which one?_

 _"What do you mean? None of them have a free last period," Lena stated._

 _"Love, could you pull up Callie's attendance records?"_

 _"It's Callie?" Lena's voice was soft but the girl could hear the surprise and disappointment._

 _Callie wished for the ability to disappear into the car's interior, but instead she could only lean the side of her head against the window and close her eyes. She braced herself for the truth to come out as silence took over, punctuated only by intermittent mouse clicks in the background. She had tried to be intentional about skipping, never missing the classes that required participation for the grade or only taking off after attendance had been taken. However, she suspected that that reasoning wouldn't fly with either of the women and that the number of missed classes logged would be greater than expected._

 _She hadn't meant for it to have gotten so out of hand. At first, the missed classes were far and few in between, but as they continued to fly under Lena's radar, it was simply too easy to give into the temptation more and more. Although many of the staff knew that the Vice Principal was currently fostering, only Timothy was aware that she had Callie and Jude with them at home. The girl had been resourceful enough to delete the automated messages left on the landline's answering machine by the school indicating she had missed one or more classes that day in order to keep Stef and Lena out of the loop. The sequence of button pushes to select and delete the correct message had been easy to memorize, and Callie would make sure she did it as soon as they'd get home, always with the volume turned completely down so no one would notice. A trick that had been perfected in previous foster homes._

 _It wasn't that Callie disliked her teachers or the classes. In fact, she usually found school to be a welcome distraction by offering something else to focus on. Anchor Beach was the nicest one she had ever been to but she felt awkward around the privileged charter school crowd which, as expected, was far from welcoming. In fact, apart from the rest of the Adams Foster kids, Wyatt was Callie's only friend. The two shared a mutual love of photography and they often skipped to have some innocent fun, like climbing the rusty fire ladder by a hidden entrance up to the roof to take landscape shots of the city. Recently, they had skipped Physical Education together, the last period before the end of the day. The class had started a beach volleyball unit and they found they were able to easily walk away after attendance was taken, leaving them with nearly an hour-and-a-half to themselves before Callie had to be at the front office to meet the rest of the family to head home._

 _"Seven absences this month, eleven over the past two," Lena said, incredulous. "We're going to have a long chat about this when I get home."_

 _Tears began to prick Callie's eyes. She was surprised to find how upsetting it felt to disappoint both of the women and she had no idea why; something like this would have never bothered her in another home. Then again, she had never gotten caught. Maybe it was the fear that once it got back to Bill she and Jude would be gone, just like that._

 _"You're grounded, Callie. For two weeks. No computer or TV. Hand over your phone, right now," Stef ordered, placing her hand, palm up, onto the console. Remembering how much joy Callie derived from taking photos with it, she felt a pang of guilt. Then realizing that her or Lena wouldn't be able to keep tabs on Callie, she added, "You are to check in with Mama at your free blocks and at lunch. And no more Wyatt."_

 _Knowing the women wouldn't have any way to enforce who she spent her time with, Callie rolled her eyes._

 _Just watch me, she vowed._


	2. Trouble in the Water

**Chapter 1: Trouble in the Water**

Callie leaned against the station wagon and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out. She wished that the school's parking lot was outside the range of the PA system as she heard Lena's voice once again, this time more sharply and directing the message at her instead of Wyatt. "Callie Jacob, please report to Vice Principal Lena Adams' office immediately."

Neither of the announcements were a surprise to either of the youth. "Seven minutes. Pretty impressive," Wyatt called from inside the car, referring to the length of time it had taken Timothy, their English teacher, to walk from the car to the administrator's office to effectively turn the both of them in.

"Yeah," Callie laughed nervously as she wished the butterflies in her stomach would settle. She couldn't believe her luck. Having recently been grounded for two weeks after being caught blowing off her classes, she knew the current predicament she found herself in was not going to lend itself to earning back Stef and Lena's trust. Her mind wandered to that morning, which had started out just as any other day. Callie had gotten up early to help herself to a cup of coffee and was relieved when Stef was the second person to come downstairs, offering a rare opportunity for the two of them to enjoy each other's company without the rest of the family. Although there were times Callie was still afraid of the woman, her wariness had significantly abated in the last few months and she was beginning to feel a bit more secure around her and Jude's soon-to-be-adoptive mother. And while her and Stef never did too much talking in the mornings, they shared a simple routine when it came to the first meal of the day.

* * *

Stef poured milk into a bowl of cereal before handing it to Callie, who gave a meek smile in return. She was constantly surprised at how intuitive the woman always seemed when it came to understanding what she needed. Breakfast in particular had been a sticking point for many weeks after her and Jude came to live with the family, as neither of them were used to eating in the morning. In previous foster homes, it was how they ensured they would get adequate portions at lunch and dinner. Even when they lived with their parents, breakfast together as a family was a rare treat. Typically her and Jude would raid the kitchen and take whatever they could find into the living room where they crammed in as many cartoons as they could before they had to leave for school while their Mom and Dad got ready. The pattern repeated itself on weekends so that their parents would have a chance to sleep in.

Callie had learned just how different this home was from all the other ones they had been in. With all meals, Stef and Lena had a rule that everyone had to show up and eat together; even if you weren't hungry, you had to show up and try to have a few bites of something. Grudgingly, Callie had obeyed but she discovered just how much harder it was to eat in the morning than she thought it would be. After years of skipping a morning meal, it was as if her body was revolting; she gagged and threw up each time. It was the cop who had come up with the idea of introducing small portions at breakfast to help Callie's stomach keep it down and get used to the influx of calories. Every few days, Stef would slowly increased the amount she was preparing for her and to everyone's surprise, Callie had thus far made her way up to a small bowl of cereal and a slice of toast. It was one of the many ways Stef showed she cared for Callie.

As Stef handed over the Arts and Media section of the morning paper, Callie realized that things were finally feeling as though they were returning to normal. After getting busted for skipping a month ago, the women had kept her on an extremely short leash even after her grounding had ended. The teen knew that it was not entirely undeserved; however, she couldn't help but feel discouraged at having to earn their trust again. Over the course of the last couple weeks, Callie was making it to all her classes, doing homework, and hadn't missed curfew once. Getting her phone privileges back was something she was definitely very thankful for, as it meant she could take photos once again.

After dropping Jude off at his classroom, Callie had attended her first two classes; however, a sense of dread had started to build the moment her timetable reminded her of third block. Her Science class had began a Genetics unit last week, which she had a genuine interest in. But when the teacher went through details of the end of term project, Callie was discouraged that every student would be expected to create a genetic family tree to illustrate how certain traits were passed through generations, which they would do an in class presentation on. They would also have to fill out a worksheet on maternal and paternal characteristics, like the presence of dimples or widow's peak, eye colour, and hair type and colour, among others, to figure out if traits were dominant or recessive. These features would also need to be gathered from other family members, like siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. From this information, the probability of the same traits appearing in the offspring could be predicted.

Callie only needed to briefly flip through the worksheets to confirm that there would be no way she could even make a dent in the assignment, which was worth a significant portion of their grade. She remembered what her Mom and Dad were like but not in those small details the assignment wanted them to capture. On top of that she had never met her grandparents on either side, and her and Jude had no extended family that they knew of as both Colleen and Donald were estranged from their families. Callie only knew that her Mom's parents didn't approve of her being with Donald, and when she got pregnant in her early 20's, they eventually lost contact. Her Dad never spoke about his family and being a quiet child, she never thought to question it. But her and Jude had figured they had no one else but each other in the family, since they had gone directly into foster care after the car crash.

It wasn't so much the grade Callie cared about, though; she could easily make up the details so she would do well on the assignment but she didn't feel comfortable with that idea of being too ashamed to be truthful about her parents. It was more that she was irritated with herself for allowing the content to upset her so much. How could she not remember these basic details about her parents? The in-class presentation especially was like salt being dumped on an open sore: having to sit and listen to her classmates drone on about their intact families and waving in her face what she and Jude could have had, had her Dad not been drinking so heavily that night.

It was just as she suspected: Anchor Beach was so privileged that it was easy for its teachers to assume every student came from biological families that would support such an assignment. None of them had any concept of what life could be like otherwise, how terrible things could really get, Callie fumed as she recalled the homes that Bill had put her and Jude in. The yelling, the drinking, the violence, the humiliation of foster parents reminding her of past failed homes and worse, her parents being nothing but irresponsible drunks. That even their family didn't want them. Being hungry and humiliated when she tried to help herself to stuff in the kitchen, only to be reminded that they were kept separate "for the family." The sense of foreboding before the first time she knew she'd be struck. Being told to lay down on her bed and turn over onto her stomach and trying to mentally prepare herself.

Callie had long given up on the idea of her and Jude ever having a family with some semblance to the one they had with their Mom and Dad, and had come to accept it so readily that she hadn't thought about it until this assignment. Knowing she would have little success at sitting through another Genetics class without doubling into a panic attack or her incomplete homework being noticed by the teacher, she decided instead to explore the tide pools on the beach. Callie anticipated that Lena's guard might be lowered enough after she was caught skipping a month ago, that she would be able to get away with it just this once without being caught.

As Callie made her way out of the school's back exits, she ran into Wyatt who had also decided to forgo Science. It had spiralled from there. They bought marijuana from an entrepreneurial sophomore and made their way back to his Mom's old car, only stopping at an empty metal garbage can to set fire to the Genetics syllabus and course material. Then they promptly hotboxed the car, Callie trying to forget about the stupid assignment and quell the worries in her chest about how she would avoid it.

Unfortunately, their fun was short-lived as they jolted to the sound of someone opening their passenger door suddenly. Unbeknownst to them, their English teacher was parked in the next stall over. He had been running late that morning and by the time he arrived, he was so focused on making it into the building that he had forgotten his lesson plans behind in the car. Class materials in hand, Timothy had just shut his car door when he caught a whiff of the stench of marijuana in the air. Looking over to the adjacent car, he spotted Callie and Wyatt amidst the hazy interior, two open beer cans sitting in the cupholders. He felt annoyance at now having to deal with the youths on top of everything else he had on his plate.

"Callie. Wyatt. I'm afraid the both of you need to come with me to the office," Timothy said firmly. He shook his head both teens refused to budge from their seats and Callie smirked at him, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but not before he had seen her face fall. Timothy felt a pang of guilt as he remembered Lena telling him how desperate she and Stef were to get the girl on the straight and narrow. He sympathized with how difficult it must be for Callie to not only have to adjust to her new surroundings but to have a parent to be in a position of authority at school on top of that. He recalled how difficult it had been when she had joined his class four months ago to develop an ounce of rapport with the girl, which undoubtedly he would lose after going to Lena about what he had seen her doing.

* * *

"Callie Jacob, report to the main office immediately," Lena's voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. The terseness was evident in the Vice Principal's words.

 _Shit_ , Callie thought, remembering the morning and how everything was finally feeling okay again. All of that was going to be undone. She tried to tell herself not to care and that Stef and Lena would likely just ground her again and yell at her; it would suck but she knew she could deal with it. In the meantime, Callie needed to hatch a plan; soon Lena would call Stef at the station who would immediately start to look for her.

"Fuck," she said to herself, before shooting a glance beside her at Wyatt, "I gotta get home. To change my clothes," she quickly clarified in response to the confused look he was giving her, "so maybe I have a chance to convince Stef I wasn't doing what—"

" —we were doing?" Wyatt asked, smiling. "Want me to drive you? I ain't going in to see Lena by myself."

"No, I'm good," Callie smiled back as she got out of the car to grab her bag from the backseat. Cursing to herself again for wasting valuable time, she reassured herself. All she would have to do would be to get in the shower and help herself to Mariana's shampoo to mask the smell.

"Stef knows your car," Callie explained. "If she sees us driving then shit will really hit the fan," she smirked playfully at the boy before sticking her tongue out at him. "See you later!" she called as she turned around to start booting it home.


	3. Intercepted

**Chapter 2: Intercepted**

"I just wish we understood what Callie is thinking. I don't get where we are going wrong with her," Lena vented on the phone to Stef, updating her about Timothy's visit to her office and furious that the teen had ignored both of her announcements calling her to her office. "I have no choice but to suspend her, Stef. There is a zero tolerance policy against any substances on school grounds and Timothy said the kids were smoking marijuana and had alcohol in the car."

Stef sighed to herself, incredulous that Callie had not only managed to get herself suspended but was now also dabbling in drugs and alcohol after recently being grounded. "Okay," she spoke evenly, hoping to keep herself calm while still at work and to prevent her colleagues from overhearing. Mike especially had been supportive but wary when she had told him that they were adding two more children to the mix.

Lena paused, certain that what she had to say next to her wife would infuriate her to no end. She hadn't yet told Stef that Callie never came to see her, or that she was not picking up her phone. Lena had checked the parking lot but the stall next to Timothy's car was empty and she had no idea where Callie had gone.

"Lena? Hello?" Stef interrupted. She had been nursing a tension headache with her third cup of coffee of the day, which had been brought on by a backlog of documentation that greeted her at the start of her shift, an endless pile she could never seem to get under control. With afternoon patrol looming, she had to get back to work quickly and was impatient to back burner this latest incident with Callie until she got home.

There was a pause while Stef heard her wife clear her throat nervously. "I didn't hear Callie's side of the story…because she's disappeared. I have no idea where she went, she isn't answering her cell at the moment," Lena informed, cringing as she heard her wife mutter an obscenity under her breath. "Stef, I can't leave school right now, maybe you could drive around and see if you can find her," she added gently, but in a way that left no question as to what she should do.

Stef closed her eyes and massaged her temple with a free hand. She definitely would not be getting to her paperwork now; instead, she would have to find Captain Roberts to let her know she needed the rest of the day off. Her throbbing head was making her even more irritable. One again, it needed to be her who would leave work early to locate and sort out their headstrong daughter, because Lena would never miss work unless it was absolutely necessary. And since Callie was suspended now, she would have to take additional time off, as she and Lena didn't trust her enough to leave her at home alone.

* * *

Having a hunch that Callie would go straight home, Stef decided to go there first to drop off her stuff and wait to see if she could intercept the teen there. She made sure to take a different route from the one that the kids took when walking to and from school and pulled the SUV into the back alley to avoid giving Callie a reason to bolt. The woman hoped that she was right, that Callie wouldn't dare hang outside of school grounds after getting caught by her and Mike while on patrol. Then again, Stef had to admit that she did not really know what to think anymore.

Anticipating that Stef would have to wrap up a few things before heading home, Callie rushed home as fast as she could; she hoped that she would have just enough time to put some drops in her eyes to clear the redness from them and at least jump in the shower. And find some Febreeze for her clothes and backpack, which now stunk. The girl began to feel a twinge of panic, as she tried to figure out a plausible excuse to explain what had happened.

Almost at the house, Callie decided she would flat out deny it and maintain that it had been Wyatt who was smoking and drinking, and that she only happened to be there, figuring they couldn't hold that against her. Neither women had been there, so it would be Timothy's word against her's, she tried to reassure herself naively. Plus, she hadn't ever done anything like this before so it wasn't as if they had a reason to not believe her, Callie rationalized to herself.

Much to the teen's chagrin, the cop was calmly sitting at the kitchen table with that morning's newspaper in her hands. _Shit_ , was all Callie could think as her heart leapt into her throat; it was one thing for her to plan to lie, but another thing altogether to try to execute it, and lying was definitely not something she was good at. Suddenly, the plan did not seem so foolproof after all.

"Hey Cal, I didn't expect to see you home this early," Stef said casually without looking up. Being a cop, she had a knack for drawing answers out of her kids. The last thing she wanted to do was to let Callie in on how much she knew, mostly because she was curious about how her daughter would be trying to get herself out of the latest quagmire she found herself in. The woman took her time before lowering and peering above the top of the newsprint. She watched as Callie's eyes darted back and forth between making contact; the girl was trying to suss her out for how much she knew about her afternoon. Finally, much to Stef's annoyance, the teen stammered out an excuse about how she decided to come home early because she was feeling sick.

Completely underestimating Stef's skill as a police officer and unaware that the woman was onto her, Callie felt a small flicker of hope that maybe she was safe, for now, anyway. Perhaps Lena had gotten caught up with something else and had not had the chance to talk to Stef yet.

Callie had begun to sidle towards the stairs, ensuring as wide a berth as possible from the woman, when she heard her say with an unexpected firmness in her voice, "Stop right there." She froze as Stef began to walk over to her and she felt everything she had planned to say escape her. Callie was certain that the cop could smell her now and hear her pounding heart through her chest.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you need to tell me?" Stef asked sternly. After a pause, she received a very cautious nod in response. However, when the cop reached out to gently cup Callie's chin and tilt her head up, she caught sight of her dilated, bloodshot pupils. The shamefaced look that the girl gave her confirmed everything that Lena had told her on the phone, and Callie knew then that the game she was trying to play was over.

"If you already know why are you even bothering to ask me?!" Callie said defiantly. She felt annoyance, irritation, and disappointment all at once. As Stef's expression hardened in anger, Callie cringed inwardly; she steeled herself to fight in response to the fear building inside of her, the only way she knew to protect herself.

"Careful," the cop warned. "You are not in any position to be taking that tone with me. I want an explanation from you and I want it now!"

Callie could only swallow; the woman was scary enough when she was mad, but in her uniform and having her stand this close to her was absolutely terrifying.

Stef proceeded to light into the girl. "Care to tell me why _the hell_ my thirteen year old is smoking pot, _hot boxing,_ and drinking when she should be in class? You're on probation, Callie," she scolded, "Did you not hear what the judge was telling you or did you just choose to completely disregard his warning? You cannot be getting into trouble like this, getting suspended from school and being in possession of drugs and alcohol. Honestly, I would have thought that after we found out what—"

"—Great! Just go ahead and throw all my mistakes back in my face!" Callie retorted. She hated it whenever the woman did that.

"CALLIE ADAMS FOSTER! I'd watch your attitude if I were you," Stef snapped, slamming her hand down on the table for emphasis. She felt her irritation rising quickly to a boiling point; not only had Callie tried to pull the veil over her eyes but was now going too far with her disrespect.

"Or what?" Callie asked disrespectfully, as her voice started to climb partly out of fear of the cop and anger at the slight humiliation she felt from getting yelled at. "You can't tell me what to do," Callie challenged. "Can't you read? The last time I checked my last name is still Jacob."

Although Callie continued to glare, her apprehensiveness of the woman was clear and Stef decided to lower the volume of her voice. "Callie," the woman said, "that is completely irrelevant. You're a minor living under my roof, meaning you have the same rules that apply to the rest of this family. The papers may say otherwise at this moment, but right now you have made it very clear that you need someone to remind you of what you need to be doing." The cop sighed and decided to change tactics slightly, deciding to wait for Lena to come home so that she could cool down before she said something to Callie that she would later regret.

Stef gestured to the canvas knapsack. "Hand it over," she demanded in a low tone that left Callie little opportunity to argue with.

"There's nothing in there, I swear," Callie replied a little too defensively, clutching onto her bag a bit tighter.

"Do you think I was born yesterday?" the cop asked abruptly. "I'm not going to ask you again, Callie," she said impatiently as she enunciated each word in annoyance.

Reluctantly, Callie gave in. She stood by nervously and held her breath as Stef searched the bag, hoping that by some miracle the woman would miss the small internal pocket where her stash was hidden. Unfortunately, she was thorough—Callie had almost exhaled in relief when Stef's fingers found the hidden compartment.

Callie saw Stef's expression change from one of confusion to disappointment, and finally to anger as she retrieved a pocketknife, two lighters, a half empty carton of cigarettes, a baggie with several joints, and rolling papers. "You're still smoking cigarettes?" she asked quietly.

"Those are mine…you have no right to take them!" Callie started to protest, still not daring to look at her foster mother who was annoying her to no end.

"Just watch me!" Stef very nearly snarled. Infuriated, she threw the items onto the dining room table so hard that the lighters and knife bounced off. She immediately regretted her actions when she saw Callie flinch; Stef softened her gaze and took a step toward the girl before gently holding her by her upper arms.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you, please," she said sternly but in a much quieter tone, as Callie met her eyes and she saw the tears that were threatening to fall. "I am so very angry and disappointed with you right now, but hitting is not a consequence in this house. You do not have to worry about that," she said as Callie looked at her doubtfully.

The cop continued once she received a small nod. "You are grounded, Callie. Two weeks. To and from school and group only, no phone, TV, or computer except for homework. You will not be leaving this house for any other reason unless Mama and I say otherwise, understood?" She braced herself for Callie's anger to return as an indignant look flashed across the girl's face.

"This is bullshit! You're a fucking joke, you know that Stef!" the teen yelled as her anger spilled over and she could not help but to run her mouth. Callie felt her stomach flip once again as Stef's eyes widened momentarily before narrowing, lips thin; she had done it now. Figuring she had very little to lose now, the girl shoved the cop hard with both hands to challenge the woman and to make sure she knew she wasn't afraid of her.

"You just earned yourself another week! Get upstairs, right now. This conversation is far from over," Stef ordered firmly as she raised her voice once again after steadying herself. After what she had just told Callie about not hitting in their home, she was incredulous that the teen had chose to get physical with her. It was a side of Callie that she hadn't seen before and it worried her that the youth had felt threatened enough to lash out like that.

Stef hoped that sending Callie to her room would give her time and space to get her temper in check, as well as for Callie to cool off, before Lena and the rest of the family came through the door. However, Callie only turned on her heel to go into the backyard, slamming the back door so hard that it reverberated through the house. Stef sighed. It was a power struggle with this one, and she had already lost this battle.


	4. The Divisions Within

**Chapter 3: The Divisions Within**

Stef's head was pounding now; the tension headache that had started earlier that day had now transitioned into a full blown migraine, which she was sure had been triggered by stress. Desperate for relief, she downed an Aspirin while impatiently waiting for her wife to get home. Every few minutes the woman would look out into the backyard to ensure Callie was still there, fighting the overwhelming desire to march out there and drag her to her room to send a clear message that she wasn't going to tolerate her disobedience.

As the cop massaged her temples, she realized how close she felt to the end of her rope with Callie, who had taken up a new habit of testing her boundaries over the past couple months and was a far cry from the girl who had come to live with them only four months ago. The Callie that they had first met was extremely timid, never once asking for anything, and had been eager to please and follow all their rules. Deep down, Stef understood that the challenges they faced now were ultimately good things; it meant that Callie was beginning to become more comfortable with them. Of course it made sense that as Callie began to trust them and feel safer in their home, that she would also be pushing her and Lena to test their commitment. It was her way, Dr. Kodema had explained, to make sure they were the real deal and that her and Jude would be okay with them. However, although Stef and Lena had insight into what was going on, accepting the current status quo was an entirely different experience altogether. It was hard not to become increasingly frustrated; it seemed that every step Callie made towards letting them in was followed by several steps back. On top of that, because Stef did most of the disciplining, the girl seemed to challenge her with greater frequency and intensity.

The woman groaned. She had been convinced that after Callie had been put on a tight leash for repeatedly skipping school, she would be toeing the line a little more carefully. Now that Stef's anger over the recent incident had somewhat abated, fear and discontent were slowly settling in. Fear of what might have happened if, instead of Timothy, it had been a constable who caught the two teens. Knowing that they could have lost Callie to Juvenile Detention again, which would unravel all the progress she had made while in their care. Fear that the beautiful girl who they had come to love would never trust them fully to let them and to love her unconditionally. Fear that her and Lena wouldn't be able to figure out how to parent her, or rather, that Callie wouldn't allow herself to be parented.

Having been with the police department for over two decades now, Stef knew that Callie and Jude's mistrust of authority figures had been directly cultivated from the homes in which they had been in. Although neither children had said anything about, the signs of having been mistreated had been there: stationing outside the bathroom to wait for the sibling inside, startling at sudden movements or sounds, and difficulty making eye contact. She remembered the day that Lena had discovered food stashed under Jude's bed; after much coaxing the boy had divulged that some parents had withheld meals if they caused trouble. With sadness, Stef also recalled the first time she had spoken firmly with Callie over something inappropriate she had said to Jesus and the girl had cowered. She sighed at all the trauma standing in the way of them creating a healthy, trusting relationship with the youth like an insurmountable brick wall.

* * *

"Hi, honey." Lena sounded tired as she came through the back door with the rest of their brood in tow. All the kids began to quickly go upstairs after mumbling their acknowledgments to Stef. They had heard the announcements for Callie to go to the school office and knew she had gotten into trouble, and none of them wanted to be around for the fallout to save her the embarrassment. Only Jude lingered behind for a bit and Lena, noticing his nervousness, gently pulled the 8-year-old toward her into a hug. "Get started on your homework," she reminded as she walked with him to the stairwell, tousling his hair. "Grandma's taking you lot for the night so Mom and I can spend some time with Callie. She'll be more than happy to help you with math."

Though the women knew how disappointed Callie would be to be separated from Jude, they also trusted that enforcing some healthy distance between the siblings would be good for them. Plus, it'd be the only way for her and Stef and Callie to talk without running the risk of being overheard.

* * *

"Let me get this straight. You grounded her for three weeks, after it worked so well last time?" Lena clarified. She couldn't help her facetiousness in the confusion as to why her wife would resort to grounding again, especially since it hadn't seemed to deter Callie from skipping class again. Or from experimenting with drugs and alcohol; they were officially worse off from where they had started.

"Why would you do that?" Lena asked again, gently this time. She felt guilty for giving Stef a hard time; after all, she hadn't given her wife any guidance on how to handle Callie, other than to issue an order to find her. "Callie needs to understand why what she did was wrong. I'm going to have her write an essay on why it's wrong to be smoking and drinking—"

"Lena, I hardly think that an essay is going to be enough of a deterrent for Callie," the cop scoffed, taken aback by Lena's response to how she had dealt with their daughter. After cutting her workday short immediately when Lena had called, the very last thing she expected was for Lena to be criticizing her on how she disciplined their children.

"I'm sorry, honey, but it was the best I could come up with at the time, alright?" Stef said. "But we haven't had to ground Callie much and I think it might work," she explained, hoping she wouldn't have to eat her words later. "It was supposed to be two, but she tried to instigate a fight by shoving me so she got an extra week," she said, as Lena continued to look unconvinced.

The woman continued desperately, admitting her own insecurity aloud. "I don't know what to do with Callie anymore. She's thirteen, smoking cigarettes, doing _pot_ , blowing off school. She's deliberately disobeying us, Lena! Nothing we've been doing deters her," Stef said in exasperation.

"Okay," Lena said gently, trying to diffuse Stef's residual temper while still grappling with her own frustration with her wife's knee-jerk approach when it came to their kids, which Callie seemed to get the brunt of.

"It makes sense that we're having trouble keeping her in line," she reasoned, "Callie's still adjusting, remember? She and Jude haven't ever had much structure and our rules are going to be a learning curve. We're just going to have to be patient with her."

"You know that they're used to being beaten or locked in a room over stealing granola bars out of the pantry or chipping a glass by accident. Of course they're not going to take grounding, chores, and getting privileges taken away seriously right now." Lena continued as she recalled her past conversations with Bill, the kids' Social Worker, and Dr. Kodema. "Callie especially…she took the brunt of the abuse and was focused on doing whatever she needed to for them to survive. Stef, she's not used to being disciplined. It'll take awhile."

"Easy for you to say," Stef mumbled, as her resentment towards Lena grew. Her wife was sensitive and preferred to talk with their kids, leaving any serious infractions for Stef to dole out. However, because Callie appeared immune to Lena's approach and had been getting involved with situations beyond typical teenage misbehaviour, Stef had been left the default person to try to get her under control.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lena questioned, hurt by Stef's insinuation.

Stef looked at her apologetically. "Honey, I'm sorry, I am just so frustrated. It's exhausting to always be the one that needs to drop everything at work for Callie, even when it's for something that happened at school. It definitely makes it harder to bond with her when I have to be the bad cop, all the time."

She continued, trying to be gentle to avoid hurting Lena's feelings. "You're the one with the PhD in Child Psych, Lena. I need you to start using it because I obviously don't have the skills to get through to her. Today I really did want to shake Callie and knock some sense into her. I need to take a breather before I say or do something I regret.

Despite her wife's efforts at being sensitive, Lena felt hurt. She kept her voice down as Callie was outside and she didn't want her to overhear their conversation. "Is that what you really think, Stef? That I don't deal with Callie? It's not easy you know, trying to be her Vice Principal and parent at the same time. Plus you know that Callie seems to respond a bit better to your tough love approach—" she whispered harshly before Stef cut her off.

"—Well maybe you need to start practicing some tough love, Lena, because there's no way I'm going to be able to do this alone!" Stef countered. "Roberts is supportive but I am really pushing it with all the time off work I've been having to take to go look for Callie. Now we have three days of suspension where one of us has to be home for, and I assume it's going to be me!

"Am I wrong, Lena?" she asked her wife in exasperation, a little more softer this time, as Lena looked guilty. Stef shook her head. "I'm going upstairs, this migraine is killing me. Good luck with our daughter. Maybe you'll have better luck since she's made it clear she doesn't want anything to do with me right now."

* * *

Lena paused, hoping that Stef was right and that she would be able to get through to Callie. She shut the back door quietly and walked across the yard towards the large tree the girl often gravitated to. Just as she had expected, Callie had her back against the trunk and arms wrapped around her legs; she looked up dejectedly as Lena approached and the woman saw from the puffy eyes and flushed face that she had been crying for quite some time. Aware of the blowup between Stef and Callie, and that her wife had not gone easy on the girl, Lena dreaded knowing that Callie would soon be unhappy with her as well.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lena murmured, crouching in front of her and placing a hand on the girl's knee momentarily. She moved to sit on the ground next to her and placed an arm around Callie to bring her in against her. They two of them sat like this in silence for a couple minutes, in part owing to Lena's apprehension. Usually she and Stef would tag team talking to the kids because their styles complemented each other's effectively but somehow this system had fallen apart with Callie.

"I don't want to talk," Callie whispered, putting her head down and hugging her knees a little tighter, "I know I got suspended. Stef already yelled at me."

Lena shifted her body so that she could look at Callie directly before responding. "I know, and I'm not here to yell at you but we do have to talk. I didn't have a choice there because you broke a zero tolerance rule. On top of that you disrespected your teacher and I by ignoring us when we called you to the office. That's unacceptable, Callie, and not something we can just forget about," she said in a way that was stern, yet sympathetic.

Lena slowly inhaled at the lack of response. "Did something happen in Science that made you not want to go?" she asked, though she already suspected the reason why. After speaking with Callie's teacher and looking over the class content and end of term assignment, she knew the topic was likely triggering in its reminder that she didn't have biological family. But the youth only looked down and shook her head.

"No?" Lena pressed, ducking her own head to try to get Callie to look at her before deciding to continue when the teen didn't express any disagreement. "Why didn't you come to me, Bug? I would have helped to negotiate a different topic for you. You aren't obligated to complete an assignment that you are unable to due to circumstances beyond your control, sweetheart. But I can't help you if you don't ever tell me what's wrong."

When the only response the woman received was a shrug she dropped her voice in seriousness. "Alright, Callie, I get that you don't want to talk. Then I need you to listen—and I mean _really listen_ to what I'm going to say to you next because it seems you haven't heard what we've been wanting you to hear lately." Callie looked shocked. Unlike Stef, the woman was careful about leaving her Vice Principal side at work and she had rarely seen her this stern outside of her office. "Attendance is mandatory—you need to attend all your classes unless you are sick. When a teacher tells you to do something, you need to listen. Smoking marijuana is unacceptable, period."

"Why is it any of your business what I do?" Callie finally snapped, glaring at her. "I'm not the only one smoking pot at your stupid school!"

"Okay Callie, don't you give me any backtalk right now," Lena said sharply. "We're not talking about anyone else right now but you, young lady." She was surprised when the youth retorted, "Look, can you just tell me how long I'm suspended for so we can get this over with and you can leave me alone?"

Lena exhaled. "Three days, Callie. You can go back to school on Monday. Two for drugs and alcohol on school grounds and an extra day for disrespecting your teacher and I."

"Did I say I was done?" she chastised when she saw Callie begin to get up. "We want an essay from you on why smoking pot and drinking are inappropriate. Mom has already grounded you so you have a bit of time to think about all this and how you're going to work on getting our trust back."

"Okay," Callie said, in a tone that was barely audible as she appeared on the verge of tears once again. Though she was angry towards Stef and Lena, she was more upset with herself for messing up again. The women had already put the wheels in motion to adopt her and Jude and while Callie was thrilled, she also feared knowing that they had the power to stop the process as well if she kept pushing them too far.

Seeing the change in the girl's demeanour, Lena tightly grasped Callie's shoulders with both her hands and gave them a squeeze. "Please know that Mom and I aren't trying to make you miserable. We just need to see some better decision-making on your part. We love you, I mean it," she said. Despite her annoyance, she could see Callie's confusion and fear and knew that right now, she needed reassurance; they would have plenty of time to talk over the next few days.

"C'mon Callie, time to get inside," she directed softly as she helped her daughter to her feet and placed a kiss on her temple.


	5. Grief, Unspoken

**Just wanted to say thank you for all of your reviews, follows, and kind messages so far. I'm completely overwhelmed. Keep it real.**

 **PS. For the reviewer who mentioned that Jude never gets in trouble-do not fret, he will have his comeuppance soon.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Grief, Unspoken**

"Cal?" Stef called as she gently knocked on the girl's bedroom door later that night. Neither of the women had seen or heard from Callie in over two hours after she had gone directly to her room after dinner. The girl had barely made a peep throughout the meal and only had a few bites before asking to be excused from the table. With the other kids gone, Stef and Lena had a solid window of time to debrief each other on what had transpired and come up with a plan they both agreed on for the days Callie was suspended.

Ever the educator, Lena insisted that Callie be kept on a fairly structured day so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed upon returning to school. She planned on collecting any assigned homework and readings for Callie to work on over the next three days, which would also allow Stef to work a bit from home in order to make up part of her lost hours—a significant contributor to her stress levels.

Lena also intended on speaking with Callie's Science teacher to make arrangements for an alternate assignment that could be completed for course credit. Most importantly, Lena would connect with the school counsellor to get another opinion on how they could be best supporting Callie and if there was another professional she could recommend. On the home front, Stef would take Callie to a neighbourhood she frequently made arrests in for drug trafficking and other petty crime to show the girl what would happen if she continued with her poor decisions.

Not hearing anything, she cracked open the door and poked her head in. Callie was side-lying in bed, tightly hugging a pillow to her body with her knees making contact with the wall. Walking in, Stef cleared some space on the bedside table to put down the sandwich and a glass of milk she had brought with her. The cop then slowly lowered herself onto the bed so that she wouldn't startle her and placed her hand softly on Callie's side, which seemed to bring her into the present. Although Callie's face was still partially obscured by the pillow when she turned up to look up at her, Stef saw the panic-stricken and disheartened gaze that she had anticipated. It was obvious she had been crying.

"Love," Stef murmured sympathetically as she began to rub Callie's back. It truly broke her heart when any of her children were hurting, and while Callie still protested that she and Jude weren't officially part of the family, to Stef and Lena the kids were very much their's.

They had come to expect this level of upset from Callie, which became especially acute after a dose of tough love. In her own way, though Callie wanted to see how far she could get away with pushing the boundaries, she was also looking for reassurance that she was still very much loved and welcome in their home—that they wouldn't send her away no matter what she did. It was a pattern that reminded Stef and Lena of Mariana and Jesus when they were first adopted: _test, fight, retreat, behave._

"I'm sorry," Callie finally said hoarsely, her voice breaking.

"Oh Bug, come here," Stef whispered as she gently wrestled the pillow out of Callie's arms and guided her onto her back. Lying right down beside her, the woman pulled her into a side hug, alternating between stroking Callie's hair and cradling her cheek with her free hand. "I know it's been a rough day," she empathized, looking at the rueful teen.

"Yeah," Callie answered.

The cop kissed Callie on the temple before propping herself up on a elbow to look at her. "You're forgiven, Callie," she stated softly before deciding to continue. Although Stef could see that the teen was upset and wished she could focus entirely upon comforting her, she also wanted to be honest.

"We do have a lot of talking to do over the next little while about the choices you made today and more about the consequences to help you make better decisions next time," Stef said as gently as she could. "But right now I just want to hold you and hear what's going on in your head. Will you let me do that sweetheart?" the cop asked, as she reached to thumb a few fresh tears off the girl's cheeks.

Pleased to receive a small nod of agreement, Stef smiled warmly at the timid teen who had behaved so wilfully just a few hours ago. "I'll have you know that your Mama and I have been around the block more than a few times, and we know something else is going on behind all of this acting out we've been seeing from you lately," the cop winked as Callie's eyes quickly darted to her, puzzled.

 _That's right, I'm on to you,_ Stef wished she could say out loud. She was convinced that there was more to Callie's dejection than the genetics unit and getting suspended; these were symptoms of a greater problem and Stef was determined to find out what it was.

"Bug, I'm so sorry if I scared you when I yelled at you," she apologized, knowing that the girl would never open up if she didn't start. The cop remembered the fearful look on Callie's face when she got too close—when she thought she would get hit. Stef was still kicking herself for forgetting to change out of her uniform right away when she got home, only realizing afterwards how intimidating she must have come across to Callie.

"You know that no one's going to hurt you here, right love?" she reminded her daughter. "I yelled because I was scared, and I guess there was a part of me that wanted to scare you too. Possession—yes, that's what it was—" Stef interrupted herself as Callie's mouth gaped open in surprise.

" _Possession_ is a huge deal and my mind kept looping back to if another police officer had found you and Wyatt. They could have arrested you two. You'd go back to Juvie and I'd lose you."

"It's okay," Callie said, before adding quietly, "I know I'm a screwup."

"Hey. Hey," Stef said sternly as she gripped Callie's arms to pull her up into sitting. "Look at me." She tilted the girl's chin up so she could force the eye contact this time. "The rule in this house to be respectful to each other includes being respectful to yourself as well."

The cop paused, giving some time for the message to sink in. "You screwed up by making some foolish choices, Callie, but that doesn't make you a bad person. There's a difference," Stef stressed. " _You_ are _not_ your mistakes," she decided to emphasize for good measure, "You have got to start believing that. Mama and I are here for you, we're always going to be here for you, regardless of how much trouble you're in with us. If we correct you, it's out of love and does not change your place in this family."

"We care about you very much, Callie. We know you can do better," she continued as the youth continued to stare at her with dubiousness.

"I need to hear it from you sweetheart, so I know you heard what I was saying," she pushed when Callie didn't say anything.

"I can do better," Callie finally mumbled, nodding as if to convince herself.

"Good girl."


	6. Grief, Awoken

**Chapter 5: Grief, Awoken**

Stef repositioned on the bed so that her back was against the wall before inviting Callie to sit beside her. Putting an arm around the teen's shoulders, she pulled her in tightly toward her. The both of them were soon snuggled against each other, Callie's head resting against the woman's chest. They sat in silence until Stef felt the tension dissipate from Callie's body and she decided to try her luck at getting her to open up.

"I'm sorry about the family tree," she began, as Callie looked up at her quickly in surprise, having forgotten once again that the two women had a habit of sharing everything between them.

"It's not your fault," Callie responded, after a pause. "It's stupid."

"What is, baby?" Stef inquired, trying to tread carefully. When she only got a shrug from Callie this time, she decided to run with it. Despite having only known the youth for four months, she had a pretty good idea about what was bothering her.

"Yes, the assignment sucks. But your feelings around it aren't stupid, far from it honey. You and Jude were handed a really raw deal and you have every right to be angry and sad and everything else on the continuum," Stef said. She stopped as she felt Callie shudder under her arm and recognized the failed attempts to muffle her tears.

"I-I don't remember them," she finally managed to choke out.

"I don't remember how she really looked, I can even remember the sound of her voice even though I promised I wouldn't forget!" Callie cried angrily.

"Oh, baby come here," Stef said as she held Callie in an even tighter hug. It took everything she had in her to not scoop the girl into her lap. She so wanted to comfort her and make up for lost time but she knew Callie would never tolerate that. Instead, the woman reached for Callie with her left hand, smoothing her hair and working the tangles away gently with her fingers as Callie sobbed and tears fell freely onto her neck and chest. "Shhh. Let it out," she consoled, "I've got you."

* * *

"Honey, just because you can't remember every single detail about your mother doesn't mean you've forgotten her as a person, far from it," she said gently when Callie's cries began to subside.

"It's only natural that after all this time without her that some things will be more difficult to remember," Stef continued, hoping to relieve Callie of some of the pressure she had obviously be putting on herself.

When there was no response, she gave the girl another tight squeeze. "Would you tell me about her, sweetheart?"

Callie hesitated. Her and Jude had only ever spoken about their parents with each other. Even when they did, their conversations were almost clinical in manner, the both of them not wanting to upset the other. But in Stef's arms, Callie began to feel as though this woman could be a safe person and that maybe she could talk to her without receiving judgment. She paused once more to consider briefly how someone who could intimidate her so much could also be a source of comfort and security. Finally, the words pushed off Callie's tongue. She didn't want to keep them to herself anymore.

"I called her Mama, even when I was eight," Callie said, unsure of where to begin.

Her voice climbed as she continued, pulling from the memories that offered the most clarity in random order. "I used to sit on the edge of the tub to watch her whenever she did her makeup and she'd tell me stories and share gossip about her friends."

"I didn't always like to read but she thought it was important…she taught me how when Jude was born. My job was to turn the pages and follow the words as she read to him and as I recognized more of the words she gave me those parts. Then one day I was able to get through a whole board book, and later all of his books." Callie smiled to herself, remembering how proud her mother was the first time she read Goodnight Moon aloud from beginning to end.

Callie paused, a slight frown forming. "She was so pretty, she always dressed nice like Lena but she said it wasn't ever about what people wore, but how they felt about themselves."

"Wise woman," Stef said, both caught off guard and thankful that Callie decided to open up about her mother. "Wait a minute. What do you mean she dressed nice like Lena, hmm?" she scolded playfully, knitting her eyebrows at Callie who let out a giggle.

"Umm. She was great at baking, too. She made the best brownies, not the cake-y ones but the super dense ones that hurt your teeth." Stef cringed at the realization that the family likely didn't have the means to see a dentist regularly.

"She could do a really good banana bread and always let me and Jude help, even if it ended up a huge mess because she said she was 'process oriented,' the girl emphasized with air quotes.

Stef stifled the urge to correct the girl's grammar. Often, her and Lena would forget how young Callie was given how responsible and nurturing she was with Jude. Until she opened her mouth, that is, giving away her immaturity.

"We just didn't bother her when she was in the kitchen, not even Dad," Callie continued, relishing in all the moments she was reliving. "She'd get so stressed when cooking. She tried so hard but it'd never turn out the way it was supposed to. I think the old lady in our complex kinda felt bad for us because every week she'd bring over a big casserole or pasta sauce to give Mama a head start, and then we'd eat that. Otherwise it'd be canned beans with a hotdog on top and box mashed potato on the side, whatever Mama didn't burn. I guess she was a lot like you too," Callie cheekily poked fun at Stef.

Stef placed her hand over her heart, feigning mock hurt. "Sassy!" she said, only to be greeted by a fit of laughter once more.

"She loved to party. Her friends were pretty cool and would help Jude and me dress up and do our makeup, and they let us stay up until we fell asleep on the couch and they slept on the floor. It was one giant sleepover," Callie described, as Stef suppressed a grimace and tried hard not to judge. Colleen had been a fairly young mother and as per Callie's disclosure, she was still juggling the demands of motherhood with the things she wanted to do.

"She called herself 'Brazen Hussy'," Callie piped up.

"Okay, that's enough you," Stef said a little too quickly, fighting both horror and amusement at the vulgar nickname Callie had just uttered in earnest.

"Please please don't ever repeat that term, especially not at school. Especially not around Lena," she implored, "unless you want her to have a heart attack."

"What about your Dad, honey? What was he like?" the cop asked, desperate to swiftly reroute the conversation before Callie could ask any questions about her reaction or what those words meant.

Callie closed her eyes, trying to think. She simply didn't have as many memories with him because he worked during the week. On top of that, both her and Jude just happened to be closer to their mother. The teen shrugged. "He was pretty quiet and watched baseball on weekends."

Callie paused to reflect a bit more before continuing. "Every month we sat down at the table. He got me to add up everything we owed and all the money he made, and then we'd figure out how to split up whatever was left. It was how I learned my math. He was good at problem solving, too. Some months got tight because he'd get less hours at work and we'd have to cut the sports channel package until we could afford it again. That happened a few times and he got really pissed—"

"Sorry," Callie said sheepishly as Stef cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows. "Um…he got ticked off," she tried again, this time with an inflection to see if the woman would approve.

Gauging Stef's expression, Callie decided to venture on. "After having to do that a few times, Dad figured out how to hack the neighbour's satellite as well as the router, so we didn't have to bother paying for cable or internet anymore," she declared proudly.

"Hmm?" Stef said encouragingly, still amazed at how Callie was choosing to share and at her sheer innocence.

"His friends were really cool, too. When they came over they'd always bring Jude and me fast food. Mama didn't like that."

When Callie spoke next, her voice was thick like a blanket. "We didn't have much…but we were happy, you know?"

"I know, honey. I know." Stef cradled the girl's head as close as she could to her shoulder, as Callie became silent once again.

"You haven't forgotten them, Callie. You never did. Just think of all the beautiful memories you just shared with me of the times you had with your Mom and Dad and Jude. A high school assignment would never be able to convey all of that joy and love you had as a family, not even close."

* * *

They hadn't moved when Lena went upstairs to check to see how her wife was doing with Callie and to let them know the others would soon be on their way home. Callie was asleep, nestled into Stef's side as the woman stroked her hair, her own head resting atop the girl's.

With Lena's help, Stef was able to extricate herself. They managed to tuck Callie in without waking her before gently closing the door and making their way to their own bedroom. Lena listened intently as Stef divulged everything Callie had told her; she was just as surprised as Stef that it had been the most they had ever heard the girl talk about her family since she had come to live with them.

Both of the women were grateful for the opportunity to learn about the two people who had brought Callie and Jude into the world. To get a glimpse into their life before everything changed in one split second of clouded judgment. But ultimately, they were thankful for the chance to be a safe place for Callie to lay her truth and grief for awhile, for they weren't sure if or when she would let them in again.


	7. Boundary Setting

**Chapter 6: Boundary Setting**

It was already well past nine by the time Callie trudged downstairs the next morning. She was grateful that Lena had already left for work and that the other kids had gone to Mike's last night so she didn't have to face them. They had come home after she had fallen asleep and gone to school while she was still in bed. Callie felt a pang of guilt as she realized she had no idea what she would say to Jude if he were to ask why she had gotten suspended from school.

"Hey sleepyhead!" Stef called as she made her way into the kitchen from the living room, "About time, I'm starving. Come help with breakfast."

"Okay. What're you making?" Callie asked, glancing worriedly at the woman. It was always Lena who headed the hot breakfasts while Stef usually coordinated fruit and cereal.

"Uh-uh-uh, don't you give me that look! Your Mom can cook some things too, you know. You kids just never give me a chance to showcase my strengths." Stef didn't want to say it, but she was still smarting from Callie's revelation that Colleen was a terrible cook just like her and she wanted to redeem herself.

"Cause we don't want to get sick," Callie teased, ducking as a rag flew at her head.

"Just for that, you're on dish duty, missy!" The cop revelled in these moments when she was able to catch a glimpse of Callie as a carefree teenager who would joke and laugh without restraint.

It was a side of her that rarely emerged when she was with Jude. Around the young boy, Callie was almost always reserved and serious, ever ready to drop into the parent role in order to protect him. Stef and Lena had been diligently trying to draw some distance between the Callie and Jude in order to nurture a more typical sibling relationship; however, the habits were deeply entrenched.

"ACE-wiches," Stef replied. "How does that sound?"

"Good." Callie couldn't help but smile to herself, surprised that the woman had remembered. A few months ago, Stef had offered her a bite of an open-faced avocado, cheese, and egg toast. Proudly dubbed the "ACE-wich", no one else in the family, not even Lena the health nut, would go near it.

Callie hadn't had much avocado before given its high price and definitely not in a form other than guacamole but she had been curious. In the short time Stef had went to get a refill on her coffee, Callie had gone on autopilot, polishing well over half of it—much to her chagrin and the disgust of the rest of the family.

"Perfect," Stef replied. "Enjoy yourself because it'll be the most excitement you'll be having in three weeks, missy," she deadpanned as Callie froze, left to wonder if there had been any teasing behind the words.

Soon they were standing side by side, Stef frying the eggs and Callie grating the cheddar. While Stef was still feeling pressure from the unexpected time she had to take off work, her resentment towards Lena had evaporated and she welcomed the opportunity to bond with Callie over a normal activity.

Since the teen had begun to test the limits they set out for her, Stef realized with disappointment that the majority of their interactions lately had become strained. It seemed like all they did was fight and all she did was discipline Callie. Any time she could spend with Callie to show her that their love for her was unconditional, no matter what sort of trouble she got in, would be well worth the legwork.

Out of the corner of her eye, Stef saw Callie halve the avocado before quartering it, then splitting up one quarter between the two toasted pieces of bread. She had forgotten how cautious Callie was when it came to saving food, another habit that had gotten reinforced from being in foster care.

"I must have missed the memo that avocados were being strictly rationed," Stef teased as she lovingly nudged Callie in the arm. "I demand at least a quarter on each toast!"

"Oh, sorry…I guess I thought this way we could have ace-wiches together three more times. We have enough bread left to do it." Callie was meek but hopeful in her explanation as she pointed to the six remaining slices of bread she had counted.

"Cal, honey, you don't have anything to apologize for. That's a great idea," the cop said gently as she turned the burner off and steered the girl by the shoulder so they could face each other.

"But I'm famished and if I have seconds today because you skimped on the avocado spread, your plan will be foiled," Stef winked, wondering what she could say to alleviate Callie's insecurity with food.

"It's alright. We can buy more avocados if we finish this one. It's not going to be wasted if we eat it and it makes us happy and healthy, right?" she encouraged, finally receiving a small smile in return.

* * *

As the both of them ate in silence, Callie felt her anxiety slowly beginning to build a pit in her stomach. She was not at all looking forward to having the conversation Stef had alluded to last night, nor did she understand why they needed to talk more than they already had. After all, Stef and Lena had already given her consequences for what she had done yesterday.

The girl's nervous demeanour did not go unnoticed by Stef, who became slightly humoured as she watched Callie intently. The teen kept fidgeting and for the third time now, she had glanced up only to quickly look down when the cop met her gaze. All progress with the food remaining on Callie's plate had ceased and she had suddenly taken to eating at a considerably slow pace, at times picking up and returning the small piece of crust without taking a bite.

Stef fought the urge to both shake and shake her head at Callie. She wasn't entirely sure which of the two feelings was winning out at this point. The teen was so determined and brave to do exactly as she wanted, regardless of the rules she would flout in the process. That is, until she came face to face with the repercussions and there would be no longer any trace of the same girl.

But seeing just how small and apprehensive Callie appeared, the cop felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy; the teen was still insecure and afraid of what might happen. Stef debated whether she should skip the lecture for now and take Callie on the drive her and Lena had discussed, knowing there might be a better chance to engage her if they weren't sitting directly across from each other. However, given how slowly breakfast was going, it did not seem like a feasible option at the moment.

* * *

"Is this the first time you've tried smoking marijuana?" Stef finally asked Callie, afraid of what the answer might be.

"Yeah," Callie admitted. Though she remained focused on her plate, Stef could see the girl's shoulders stiffen as if to brace herself for whatever would come her way.

"And how was it?" Stef inquired casually. For the first time since they had sat down, Callie looked up and made eye contact with her.

"Huh?" Callie said, balking at the question. She was unsure of whether she wanted to get into this discussion with a cop.

Stef sighed. "Excuse me. You meant to say excuse me!" she implored as Callie gazed at her sheepishly.

"Well?" she pressed when Callie only shrugged and looked down at her toast.

"I dunno, more relaxed, I guess? Tired, too."

"You were looking for a way to manage how you felt over the assignment?" Stef asked, desperate to engage Callie in some way as she gave an imperceptible nod. Of course it was a way to cope. And the thought terrified the cop because she knew it meant there was a greater chance Callie would keep it up and could eventually get hooked.

"Honey, you know better than to get high and buzzed because you're upset," she said. "We've told you time and time again that if something is wrong, no matter how insignificant you think it might be or how much you doubt we'd be able to help, you need to come to us. So we can figure it out together."

Stef paused, wondering if Callie would accept what she was saying. "Otherwise, you're just running away from the problem until it gets out control and catches up with you. And that's what happened here. You could have told us about the assignment last week and Mama would have asked your teacher for a different one for you, and it would have been the end of that."

"Thank you," she added tiredly, "for not driving around with Wyatt after you two smoked and drank. Marijuana can increase reaction time which makes driving very dangerous. And even more dangerous when you're boneheaded enough to combine it with alcohol which, by the way, is illegal at your age."

"Yes but—," Callie began to protest.

"But nothing!" Stef suddenly became harsh, frustrated Callie would try to argue with her when already in deep trouble with her.

"There was open beer in the car, yes?"

"Callie, when I ask you a question I expect an answer," she said sternly as the teen glared at her, the tides turning.

The woman took a deep breath. She needed to ignore Callie's refusal to acknowledge her for now so she could move onto the issue of cigarettes, which her and Lena couldn't fully agree on how to handle. If Stef had things her way, she would've dragged Callie into the garage to force her to chain smoke the remaining cigarettes, knowing it would make her feel terrible. It was what her father had done when he discovered her smoking in the tenth grade and she never touched another one. Lena had refused, though, citing a health violation. So they had ended up deciding on something different.

"You're bootlegging smokes too and we need to talk about that. Last time you got caught skipping you had an almost empty pack on you and now you have another, so it's becoming more of a problem than just one or two cigarettes," Stef calmly stated as she presented the facts and Callie rolled her eyes.

"So the next time we find out you're smoking, you and I will be making a little trip down to the bank."

"Huh?" Callie blurted, having fully expected the lecture to continue but not not understanding where the cop could possibly be going with this.

Stef remained pokerfaced although she nearly smiled in amusement at Callie's bewilderment. "The money you're foolishly spending to coat your lungs, sweetheart. We know it's in your room because you're too young to have a bank account," she bluffed, crossing her fingers under the table that her instincts were right.

"Next time we find cigarettes on your person, we're confiscating the cash," she warned, as the teen swallowed nervously, confirming her suspicions.

"W-what? But you can't do that!" Callie balked. "You can't steal!"

"We absolutely can," Stef responded matter-of-factly. "It's not stealing if you hand it over willingly."

"Listen, Callie. We'll help you set up a bank account so you can deposit the cash," the cop explained, trusting the teen had the sense to know the funds were safer with the bank than hidden in a room.

"The bankcard will stay with Mama and I and your money will remain untouched. We will give you an allowance for lunches or whatever else you want to buy. But you'll need to have our permission because it'd be our money."

She saw the teen's eyes widen as the idea percolated and she realized an allowance would mean she wouldn't have to carefully spend her parents' emergency cash that she was clever enough to retrieve before Bill came to take her and Jude away. And Stef could see that Callie wanted it.

But the woman also sensed the mistrust the teen held towards them that they wouldn't give her her bankcard or would withdraw every penny, which would be easy since their names would be on the account. It was how Stef had intended: Callie saw her threat as punishment, but for the women, it was an exercise in trust. The first step in moving Callie towards allowing herself to be taken care of.

"I need you to go to class, Callie, that's part of the terms of your probation. You can't be doing stuff like this and getting suspended. This and the missed classes are already going to appear in the quarterly report the school sends to the youth Parole Officer so he may want a word with us," Stef chastised.

"I got it, okay? I won't do it again," Callie replied flippantly, causing the cop to raise her eyebrows.

Stef knew the teen was trying her best to end the conversation but she wasn't ready to back down just yet. "What's gotten into you, Callie, what's behind all of this?" Stef begged, softening her tone and resting her elbows on the table so she could lean forward to get a better read of the girl.

"Talk to me, baby. You were doing so well."

Callie shrugged. "Nothing, okay! Can this be over?!" She wasn't going to make it easy for Stef, knowing that the cop was trying to direct her conversation beyond just the latest incident.

"School is important, Callie, and not just for the sake of staying out of trouble. You have a lot of potential—" Stef stopped to glare at the girl who rolled her eyes.

"You have a lot of potential and a lot of doors will open for you if you just keep focused and doing what you're supposed to. We want to see you go off to college and chase after something you're interested in. Don't you want to make something of yourself?"

Her attempt to deliver some motivation was interrupted by the sullen teen. "Don't you get it?" Callie asked in annoyance, "Jude and I aren't like you or your kids!"


	8. A Long Way From Home

**Chapter 7: A Long Way from Home**

 _"Jude and I aren't like you or your kids!"_ Callie had blurted, looking shocked at herself for the sudden outburst.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Stef asked, encouraged that they were finally getting somewhere in this conversation though it meant the girl's bad mood had returned. She suspected what Callie might have been referring to but she wanted to make sure she gave her a chance to open up on her own.

"My family wasn't like your's. Jude and I, we're different, we aren't going to ever have a life like your's." Callie mumbled guiltily, knowing how much it irritated the cop, as Stef winced inwardly at the girl's delineation between their family and their biological one. "So just stop, okay," she whispered softly, almost pleadingly. "Stop treating us as if we are."

* * *

As Stef struggled to formulate a response, her mind wandered back to a visit Bill had paid them early on in Callie and Jude's placement to check in on how they were settling in. Curious about what the children's life was like before foster care, she and Lena had asked him for any information beyond what appeared in their files. Unlike some of the Social Workers who did not take the time to learn about the minors whose cases they managed, Bill happened to be dedicated. He had interviewed a neighbour as well as a family friend while working on the siblings' placement.

Colleen and Donald had been described as doting parents who had been fairly lenient in their parenting. Their apartment was in a rough and tumble neighbourhood which had its fair share of crime but their home life was, for the most part, stable. Donald picked up hours working manual labor in a warehouse that didn't leave him with much energy to play with the kids when home. Colleen's focus was to be the children's friend and as a result, the kids did not have much in the way of consistent boundaries. According to their neighbour, she was a free spirit who liked to party and would at times ask her or another resident on the same floor to check in on the children while they slept if they weren't home for the night. It was, for all intents and purposes, a loving home. _"We didn't have much, but we were happy,"_ Callie's words echoed in Stef's head.

Then of course, after the accident, the siblings had been shuffled through multiple homes that were run by individuals who should have never received licenses to foster. Having been so young when he entered the system and with Callie watching out for him, Jude had emerged relatively well adjusted. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about Callie, who was much more guarded around strangers and authority figures.

Stef and Lena had thought that things would settle down once they got the adoption in motion. But it seemed that once the initial excitement had worn off, Callie had started to test their boundaries and challenge Stef and Lena in ways she hadn't ever before.

Whether or not Callie was doing it on purpose, it was clear that she wanted to know how far she could get away. Each time the women responded with consistency, issuing consequences that were couched in reassurances of love and support that they would always be there. And that more importantly, that neither her nor Jude were going anywhere.

In the aftermath of discipline, the women would keep Callie even closer. They began to understand that the young teen was afraid to get too comfortable with them in case the adoption didn't work out. She simply didn't want to forget the things she would need to do to survive with Jude if catapulted into another situation.

It was an incredibly tough spot to be in, trying to manage a teenager who was nowhere near the cusp of adulthood but had been used to more responsibility and independence than she should have been.

Callie hadn't been parented in several years and was not used to being held accountable for her actions, but she needed guidance and boundaries now more than ever. The women saw their efforts to provide the siblings with routine and structure as simply being a part of parenting. But to Callie, they were taking away every bit of freedom she had been used to having.

* * *

"Love, is there a part of you that's afraid to do better because you're worried you'll forget where you came from?" Stef coaxed as Callie stiffened.

It was Lena who had pointed out after their conversation with Bill that the Jacob's had been working class. Suddenly it made sense why Anchor Beach and their family had been such a culture shock to Callie. Being confronted by all the opportunities and expectations they never had was overwhelming and the girl was buckling under the pressure.

On top of that, Callie clearly didn't identify as being one of "them". Maybe because the adoption wasn't complete yet or maybe because she thought it would mean being disloyal to her parents if she fully accepted her place in this family. Either way, Stef was sure that it was why Callie failed to understand why any of their expectations applied to her and disregarded them.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Stef felt as though she was on the verge of a small breakthrough. "Get dressed. We're going for a bit of a drive," she instructed mildly as she stood to begin to clear the table. The woman was glad she didn't have to tell Callie twice, who nearly jumped up from the table, happy for a reprieve.

* * *

Callie remained silent as she leaned her head on the passenger side window. Finally, Stef pulled into an abandoned lot in a grittier part of town that she frequented when on duty. A few openly intoxicated young men were sitting on the front steps of a building rolling joints while young girls could be seen loitering on the nearest street corner.

Stef studied the girl's face closely to see if she realized that they were about a ten minute drive from the Jacob's apartment. But luckily she hadn't, and the woman hoped it would stay that way, for she was afraid of how Callie might react otherwise.

"Is this really the path you want to go down?" Stef gestured toward the street to emphasize her point. "Because let me tell you, the decisions you've been making lately are going to end up with you being in a lot more trouble than with just Mama and I."

"I don't get why you're making a big deal out of this. So I smoked pot once! It doesn't mean I've ruined my life," Callie shot back, her words laced with attitude.

 _This girl is going to turn me grey,_ Stef thought to herself as she felt her irritation rising. "No, you're right. It doesn't mean you have ruined your life. _Yet_ ," she said, keeping her voice as even and calm as possible.

"But my point is that you _could_ if you keep it up!" She hoped that things would not descend into a shouting match like the day before which had left everyone feeling spent and discouraged.

"What I'm more worried about right now is you thinking that making poor choices is the way to keep connected to who you are and your family," Stef continued, as Callie glared in defiance.

"Honey, you don't need to be afraid that you'll forget where you came from…that you'll lose yourself by doing and _wanting_ to do better than the life you had with your parents. All the experiences you've lived through make you who you are; none of that gets unwritten by what you do, where your path takes you, in the future."

"Living differently doesn't mean you are betraying the life you and Jude had with your Mom and Dad, baby. They wouldn't want you to feel that way."

It was the final straw—though Stef had tried to be careful, she had pushed Callie a bit too far and knew it was time to backpedal.

"Just stop, Stef! Who made you the special authority on knowing what my parents would've thought?" she retorted before turning to stare out the window.

Callie's small, quiet voice barely registered above the sound of the ignition. "It's not like you could've asked them, anyway," she said sadly without a trace of anger or attitude present.

As Stef pulled out of the lot, she placed her hand palm up on the console as a peace offering. She knew it was Callie's way of trying to get the last word in because she had been hurt by what she had told the girl. But Callie only crossed her arms against her chest stubbornly and looked away.

* * *

The drive back was nothing short of icy. Callie kept her gaze fixed out the window, as the scene gradually transformed from the gritty urban one she was so familiar with, to larger homes with the manicured front lawns and two-car garages of suburbia. It was as if Stef was taking her further and further away from everything she knew. From her home.

No one since her own Mom had told her she had potential. But even then, her parents didn't have the same big expectations that Stef and Lena had—nothing beyond completing high school and getting a job, anyway. There wasn't ever any talk of opportunity and college.

It was aggravating that the women didn't get it. Why would she want to get used to the idea of chasing after opportunity and believing things could be better if they hadn't ever been feasible before?

After all, it would only be a matter of time before she made one mistake too many and Stef and Lena would lose patience and give up on adopting her and Jude. It had happened before and she wouldn't put it past the women to do the same.

It was a way to cope with that fear. Callie knew that if she believed things could be better, she would have trouble adjusting to another home if they were ever sent away. The Fosters were an anomaly, unlike other ones homes where the adults could care less about her and Jude and they had to be careful to keep themselves out of danger.

Because it had been safe here, she had felt herself relaxing. But she knew that the more acquainted she got with the idea that things could be _this good_ , the harder the fall to reality would be if her and Jude could no longer live with them. She wouldn't let that happen.

* * *

No longer able to contain her anger, Callie unbuckled herself and hopped out of the car before Stef could put it fully in park.

"I can't believe you took me there just so you could throw in my face how much better you are than other people!" the girl shouted, spinning around to face the driver's seat where the cop was still sitting, completely taken off guard. Callie slammed the door as hard as she could before Stef could respond and began storming up the porch steps.

"Hey! Don't you _dare_ walk away from me right now! Don't you dare, Callie!" Stef yelled as she jumped out of the SUV and proceeded to slam her own door shut before following the girl.

"I was giving you a real life visual representation of how your life is going to turn out if you don't smarten up. Clearly you need it with the way you've been acting lately!"

The teen had retrieved the spare key from its hidden spot underneath a paving stone and had managed to open the front door when Stef caught up with her. In one swift move the woman had pushed back on the door, effectively closing it and preventing Callie from opening it despite her best efforts to pull on the handle.

"Okay, want to tell me what this is all about?" Stef asked in exasperation. She was just about at the end of her rope and it wasn't even lunch hour yet.

"No, I don't actually, Stef!" Callie snarled as she renewed her attempts to tug open the door.

"Oh no no no. I'm not moving until you talk to me. You know you can't get away with this sort of behaviour without us having a chat about it."

"Well you're going to be standing here a long time then!" Callie retorted as she finally kicked the door in frustration.

"Callie, you'd better tone this attitude right down. This instant!" Stef hissed.

"Or what?" Callie spun around to face her. "Just get used to it, okay?! I'm never going to do what you or Lena want so you might as well quit while you're ahead!"

Stef watched the girl, so full of defiance and anger. Callie's breathing was heavy and her fists were clenched. The woman placed a firm grip on her daughter's upper arm.

"You do not have to like or agree with everything I'm saying but you do _not_ get to be disrespectful," she said in a no-nonsense tone, narrowing her eyes as the girl avoided her gaze and tried to twist her arm away.

As Callie opened her mouth, undoubtedly to argue, Stef took a step closer and pointed a finger at her. "I am only going to tell you one more time. You're on thin ice, young lady. Do not push me anymore or there will be hell to pay, I can guarantee it," she warned. She studied the girl closely as she weighed her options, before both of her shoulders finally dropped in defeat.

"Sorry Stef," the teen mumbled, hanging her head. She felt the woman drape an arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Much better, Callie girl."


	9. The Calm Before the Storm

**Author Note:**

Just wanted to apologize to those of you who left comments that got eaten by the site. I read and appreciated each and every one. Thanks for your support.

I've gotten a few questions about when Stef will finally lose her cool and what that will look like. Don't worry, good things come to those who wait, I promise. I'm still dividing the chapters and I expect it will be around the Chapter 13 mark, give or take a few.

I can't say what it'll look like at this exact moment because I've been struggling with writing that part and subsequently it's been reworked several times. Can you guys let me know your opinions on things that will impact the direction of the chapters following the breakdown between Stef and Callie? For example: how intentional or impulsive you want Stef to be in her actions, if she's apologetic about how she reacts, how she explains herself, or how Callie reacts.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The Calm Before the Storm**

Much to Stef's relief, the rest of the day went by smoothly and she was able to make a fairly significant dent in the documentation she had brought home, kicking down her stress level a notch. Though far from being able to make up the missed work hours, the cop was just happy that she wouldn't be swamped with too much of a backlog when she returned. She had Callie set up right beside her at the kitchen table and, much to her surprise, the teen had obliged without complaint. All too familiar with girl's bad habit of not asking for help, the woman would peer over her glasses every so often to make sure that she was staying focused and making progress.

Despite Callie's irritation with Lena for making her do homework so that she "wouldn't fall behind" in her classes, she was simply too exhausted to fight them on this point. Having lost all her privileges and already grounded, there wasn't much else she could do anyways. And given how much trouble she already was in, Callie didn't want to stir the pot any more than she already had, lest the women come up with more ways to annoy her.

As Stef wrapped up, she noticed Callie nodding off as her head rested against her arm. Squinting to make out the title of the assigned novel, she cringed as she realized it was Bridge to Terabithia. She vaguely remembered the book from when she had to read it in school: the story involved a young boy who had to come to terms with the accidental death of his best friend.

"Why don't you go get yourself settled on the couch and let me read to you, sleepyhead?" Stef winked as she gently nudged Callie with an elbow.

The two of them hadn't talked to each other much since their altercation that morning and she wasn't sure how the teen would react. She was pleasantly surprised however, when Callie readily accepted, quickly leaving the table and bounding up the stairs to retrieve a blanket.

* * *

" _Honey!"_ Stef gasped as Callie nearly wiped out on the second landing as she made her way back down and her socked feet skidded on the hardwood.

"Slow down! I'm not going anywhere!"

"Sorry!" Callie called back, though she continued to hustle. Once again, her foot flew out from under her as she left the last step. Luckily, Stef was waiting for her and caught her by the arm to help her regain her balance just in time.

Stef couldn't contain her mirth as she looked at the queen sized blanket that Callie had retrieved from her and Lena's bed. Though the girl stubbornly held onto her walls, it was quite obvious that she craved some aspects of Stef's full attention.

"Ah, couldn't wait to cuddle I see," the woman teased.

"Oh. N—no." Callie spoke as though guilty at being found out. "I—um—thought you were cold and that maybe we could share?" she stammered before trailing off completely.

"Right," Stef agreed in an exaggerated manner. She winked at Callie before bringing her into her arms to save her the embarrassment, then pushed her back by the shoulders so she could take a good look at her daughter.

"You are too sweet, Cal. Even when you're rabble rousing," the cop scolded playfully, as the girl smiled self consciously in return. A blush had spread across her cheeks.

"Lovebug, you don't ever have to be afraid to ask me or Mama for a cuddle, you know that right? It's okay—"

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to finish her thought because Callie, who had started to feel awkward, pulled away from her and scurried toward the couch to set up.

Stef sighed before continuing her train of thought, now to no one in particular.

"It's okay to want to be close. We'll be here for you."

* * *

Finally, the both of them were settled, Stef sitting at one end of the couch, a throw pillow in her lap on which Callie was resting her head. The teen was lying flat on her back, her head turned to the side so she faced away from Stef, and the blanket was snugly tucked in around her shoulders like a cocoon.

Little did the woman know but Callie was grateful and savouring every single moment as she laid there. No one since her own mother had cared to spend this amount of time with her, let alone read to her, and the warmth and familiarity of the situation engendered a sense of safety. The girl felt a twinge of regret for pushing Stef's buttons but no matter how much she tried, she couldn't make sense of why she seemed to always do it. Vowing to try harder to behave, Callie pulled the blanket tighter around herself as she listened.

As Stef's voice buzzed in muffled and soothing undertones, Callie's eyelids became heavier and heavier. The weight of the blanket was like an arm holding her securely against Stef's lap, helping to lull her to sleep.

"She brought you something special when she came here, didn't she? That's what you hold on to. That's how you keep her alive."

Stef held her breath, troubled at having to utter those words aloud for Callie's sake. But when she peered over the girl's shoulder, she realized she had drifted off. _Thank god_ , she thought to herself, unsure of how much more stress Callie could handle in one day.

For the first time since her daughter's most recent difficulties at school, Stef began to truly appreciate just how close to home the English class content might also be for Callie. She could only imagine how isolating it would be to have to read and prepare a book report on a novel in which the death of a loved one was a predominant theme. She cringed as she thought of Callie sitting through group discussions of tougher topics with peers who were likely only able to conceptualize them as their worst nightmare…when Callie had lived it and was living through it.

Making sure once more that the girl was asleep, Stef planted a soft kiss on her forehead before slowly easing herself out from under the pillow that was on her lap.

* * *

Lena came out of the ensuite, towelling her curls off in manageable sections. "I spoke with the school counsellor today to get another opinion on Callie and how we can best support her with some of the issues that keep cropping up. Mostly about the smoking and drinking, and how we can get her back on track."

With the kids having gone their separate ways in pursuit of individual evening routines which consisted of homework, showers, and Netflix, she welcomed the time alone with Stef even though they still needed to discuss Callie. Focusing solely on the teen for the past couple days had been wearing them out and they had not had much time for each other.

Callie had gone to bed almost immediately after dinner. Having woken up less than fifteen minutes before being expected at the table, she had been groggy and appeared in no mood to engage with anyone or anything apart from her food.

"She strongly recommended one-on-one sessions and I'm inclined to agree with her since Callie's participation in group hasn't been great. I got the contact information of her colleague who specializes in trauma in youth."

Propped up on her side of the bed, Stef slowly nodded as she mulled it over. She knew that because one-on-one sessions would be considered extra on top of Callie's required group attendance, there would be no way that Bill could swing covering the cost. But she would do anything for the teen, especially if it was for things that were needed for her wellbeing.

"Sounds great, babe. One-on-one would at least force Callie to participate because she wouldn't be able to hide. Do you know how many sessions are typical for this sort of thing?" The cop quickly did rough calculations in her head, trying not to let her worry show as the numbers added up.

"Not sure. There's usually an assessment period before they get into the actual therapy."

"So what'd she have to say about the acting out that started all of a sudden?"

"Just that the boundary pushing is pretty much expected," Lena said in defeated tone before elaborating. "It's Callie's way of seeing how much we can be trusted, right? As well as how she keeps us at a safe distance in case things don't work out."

"Even though the papers are in?" Stef asked, referring to the adoption. She always assumed that completing their part of the petition to adopt Callie and Jude would have increased the girl's sense of security. After all, it was everything they could do to express their commitment in having this become a permanent arrangement.

"It could always be undone," Lena said.

"That might explain why Callie kept insisting that we stop treating her and Jude like they were one of us, because they weren't like us, according to her."

"Exactly," Lena responded. "It's her way of trying to keep her own boundaries. She's afraid that if we don't follow through on the adoption and they have to go back into the system that she won't remember how to survive anymore so she wants to keep a backup plan for them intact."

Stef sighed. She wished she could shake Callie awake and tell her that she didn't need a backup plan anymore but she anticipated that wouldn't go over quite well. After being able to share a nice moment with the teen that afternoon, she didn't feel like rocking the boat. It was those moments where they got to bond that made it all worth it.

"I just… I don't know, baby. I just wish that Bug trying to keep her own boundaries didn't mean her constantly going against us, you know? I want my cake and to eat it too, damn it!" The cop chuckled, though it was clear that her happiness was forced.

"She said her family wasn't like our's, Lena. And I know that, and I know we aren't trying to replace Colleen and Donald…but…"

Stef paused as her voice cracked. "It still hurt, Lena."

Nestled against her wife, Lena periodically rubbed her on the arm to offer some comfort. Though it was her who had brought Callie home, it was Stef and Callie's relationship that had blossomed. Despite all their head butting, it was clear that the two of them loved each other.

"Oh honey…you know that Bug didn't mean it like that. She wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. Their family was different from our's, of course, no two families are alike," Lena said gently. "She has our love and safety, which she wants because it probably reminds her of her parents. But then we put all this other stuff on her like expectations and rules, which is completely different from what she knows."

"I know," Stef agreed. "I figured that's part of the reason why Callie fights us on our rules—she thinks if she accepts them too easily then it would mean she's betraying what she had with Mom and Dad."

"Mmm. Yeah, you could be onto something there." Lena had been thinking along a similar vein as her wife. "Callie likely doesn't realize herself. She's grasping at whatever straws she can to keep that part of her life she had with her parents alive, no matter whether it's through good decisions or not."

"I think truly she's torn between wanting to accept us but not wanting to forget Colleen and Donald. She isn't quite mature enough yet to realize it doesn't have to be one or the other, that she can have both," Stef added.

"Remember how happy they were that night?" Lena asked softly as she got under the covers. It was one of their favourite conversations, one they were sure they'd be repeating over and over until the kids were well into adulthood, and then some.

"Baby how could I forget?"

Stef smiled, remembering how ecstatic Callie had looked in the hour after they proposed the idea of adoption, after she realized they were serious. At one point, Jude had started jumping up and down as he held onto his sister's hands. The siblings had begged to stay on the couch together for the night and both her and Lena had relented, figuring the kids deserved some time to talk amongst themselves. But when they awoke to whispering from the living room at four AM and discovered two very wired kids, she had nearly blown a fuse and threatened to send them upstairs to their beds if they didn't hush up.

"I can't believe that was just a couple months ago. Things have gotten much harder since then." Stef sighed loudly, cupping her head in her hands before running them down her face. "You should've been there today. I had to deescalate the hell out of our sweet daughter after she got so angry with me that she kicked the front door. This was after she jumped out of the SUV as I was still parking."

"I take it that the drive didn't work out so well," Lena sympathized.

"That's one way to put it. I guess kicking the door was better than her kicking me, hey?" Stef cringed; she hadn't meant to hurt the teen's feelings by challenging her and she still felt guilty for it. "We need to get Callie back on track, and quickly because she's on probation. Her trouble at school is going to get back to the PO with the school report that gets sent over. Honestly, I think for now they'd be understanding. Bill will go to bat for us and we can plead that it's part of the adjustment phase. They've been otherwise happy with how she's been doing."

"They'd be lenient for the first little while, anyway, but there's a limit to their patience. Probation rules are there for a reason." The cop closed her eyes, understanding that at some point it would all catch up with Callie and then shit would really hit the fan. She just couldn't bring herself to say it out loud though she knew it was a real possibility, especially given how much Callie's behaviour had escalated in the last month alone. Because by saying it out loud she would have to admit that they could lose her.

"I don't know how to discipline her, Lena. She told me point blank today that she would never listen to us so we should stop trying. My patience with this kid is wearing thin."

She heard Lena suck in a breath from beside her. "Baby girl does know how to keep us on our toes, doesn't she?"

Trying to stay positive as she knew Stef was getting discouraged, Lena continued. "I made an appointment with Gisella for Friday mid-morning and asked that she have a discussion with Callie on coping strategies and maybe exploring the reasons why she's been so upset with us. In the meantime the only thing we can do is to keep being consistent and hopefully things will start to turn around."

"Perfect! I cannot wait for when we let Callie know," Stef said, unable to help her sarcasm, as Lena slapped her playfully on the arm.

"You know how it is. Pulling teeth might actually be easier than getting that kid to group."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Any brave souls want to fathom a guess as to how Callie is going to react to being forced to go to more therapy?


	10. Recalcitrant

**Author Note:**

As always, thanks for the support and all of your ideas! I think I know where I'll be taking things now. For the reviewer who suggested a scene where Callie becomes ill and gets taken care of, I can promise you that will be woven in. (Hope you) enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Recalcitrant**

"No. No way. I'm not going to another shrink," Callie declared as she folded her arms across her chest.

As Stef and Lena had predicted, broaching the topic of individual counselling was hitting a dead end. After a fairly docile and uneventful evening with Callie the night before, this was not how either of them wanted to begin their day. Due to the stress about how to handle their daughter, neither had slept well and the restless night had left them feeling drained.

The three of them were in the girls' bedroom; Lena sitting beside Callie on the bed and Stef leaning against the desk where she stood directly facing the pair. The rest of the kids had left for school already. Usually, Lena left around the same time, but today she had decided not to go in until mid-morning so that she and her wife could be a united front in talking with Callie.

"Hon ** _ey_** _._ " Stef enunciated each syllable in frustration at her headstrong daughter. "You haven't even given it a chance. How do you know that you won't find it helpful?" she reasoned.

"Because I know!" Callie argued. "I've had to go to these things before. You already make me go to that stupid group which I don't like."

"I know you don't, honey, and I really hate to break it to you but it's not about what you want," Stef said as gently as she could. "It's what Mama and I think what's best for you right now."

She hated that everything had to be a battle, a negotiation. "And yes, we do make you go to Dr. Kodema's group even if you think it's stupid, because it's court ordered. That's not our doing."

"Can you please just trust us and not fight us on this, just this once?" Stef very nearly pleaded. Her exasperation grew when she was greeted by Callie's tearful and angry "No!"

 _And can you please just trust me for once?_ Callie thought, wishing she had the courage to ask. She fought against the all too familiar, prickly feeling that was building in her throat as the women cornered her. For all the complaining Stef and Lena did about how she didn't hear what they were saying, they sure didn't have a problem ignoring her side of things.

If they heard her, she would have told them that she'd been to individual therapy before when she was younger, always upon Bill's insistence. How she hated the way in which it chipped away at her each time, making her feel insignificant, different, and broken.

"Careful," Stef warned. "There's no need to raise your voice at us, love." She paused to glance at her wife in desperation; she was out of ideas and really needed Lena to take over before she lost her patience as well.

Lena caught the fatigued expression being directed her way and decided to try her best to cajole the teen. "Sweetheart, all we're asking is that you give it a fair shot, okay? I talked to Gisella yesterday—"

"Gi _s_ ** _ella_**?" Callie repeated incredulously, before a mischievous grin began to spread across her face. "What'd she sell-ya?" she asked, looking very pleased with herself for coming up with the crass joke on her own.

 _This girl,_ thought Stef and she couldn't help but smile. Even though it was at Gisella's expense, at least their daughter was giving them a bit of comic relief from arguing.

Unfortunately, Lena was much less impressed by Callie's stab at humour. "Okay, that's enough. I've made you an appointment for tomorrow morning and you're going, that's final. You need to stick with it for a few sessions. If you don't find it helpful after that, we can consider other options."

What seemed like an entirely fair compromise to Lena caused Callie to snap. "What?" she said with attitude, spinning around to glare at Lena as she felt the woman's hand graze her shoulder. "So you were just paying me lip service, or what? Why would you even bother to ask me if you've already decided?"

Callie's voice continued to climb in sheer frustration. "Why didn't you just take me on a random drive and drop me off at this stupid counsellor's office if you weren't going to give me an opinion so we could've skipped all of this!" she shouted at the woman in annoyance.

"Excuse me! Watch your tone, young lady. That is not an acceptable way to talk to me and you know that," Lena chastised as Callie immediately subdued. The Vice Principal shook her head in exasperation; it was rare that she had to raise her voice at Callie and, although there were times such as this when she thought it was necessary, she still felt bad to do so.

She tried once again to place a hand on the teen's shoulder as an olive branch, to show she would forgive the outburst, but Callie swiped her arm away which caused Stef to lose patience. Up until now, Lena had been mostly spared from the girl's wilfulness and she was taken aback to have it directed at her for once.

Stef straightened immediately and in one quick, coordinated move she had grabbed the desk chair and placed it directly in front of the teen before sitting down. "You need to stop this. Right now," she said firmly. "You do not get to hit or talk to us in this way, you hear me? That is disrespectful behaviour and we do not treat each other like that in this house."

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," the cop ordered. She waited as Callie reluctantly met her gaze while simultaneously shrinking away from her.

"Stop arguing with us because it will absolutely not change the fact that you're going tomorrow. We are the adults here and we are trying to do what is best for you, and this is what we need you to do at this moment to be healthy."

"I won't go. You can't make me go," the girl finally said quietly, as her expression flitted between one of surprise to defeat, before returning to defiance.

Stef sighed, knowing she'd have to play a bit of hardball to make her point. "Alright, how about this? You either attend the session tomorrow with no drama and give it a fair chance like we've told you to. Or Mama and I will schedule you to sit down with the school counsellor once a week. She should have no problem coming by your class to remind you."

The woman felt bad twisting Callie's arm like this but was determined to get her to cooperate. She hadn't anticipated that this tactic would set fire to the gas and she mentally prepared herself for a fight as she noticed the girl's face automatically darken.

Callie hated that Stef and Lena thought they could just steamroll their opinions across and play their cards in a way that pushed her into compliance. What just happened wasn't so much a choice as a ploy to get her to accept what they wanted her to do. Even if she refused, Callie knew that she couldn't really avoid going as she wouldn't put it past Stef to drag her into the car and into the office.

So she would fight them. She vowed not to make it so easy for them to push her around this time.

"Why are you being such a bitch?" Callie spat before she could help it, blinking back tears to glower at the cop. As Stef's jaw clenched into a line and her eyes hardened, the teen knew she had crossed a serious line. She was in trouble but there was no backing down now and she kept going.

"It's like you get off on being so cocky, telling me what to feel and do all the time," she said as disrespectfully as she could manage without letting the tears fall.

* * *

The girl swallowed nervously as the gravity of the words she had just directed at her foster mother began to set in. Ears burning, she turned away from Lena who was looking angrily from where she sat beside her. And though she couldn't bring herself to look up at Stef either, she could only imagine how upset the cop would be in that moment.

Callie flinched and jerked her head up suddenly at the sound of Stef snapping her fingers and pointing across the room.

"Bring me your guitar," Stef said simply, without explanation.

Callie stared at her in consternation. "What? No," she replied. And though her words were defiant, her voice came out uncertain and juvenile.

Stef rested her forearms on her thighs so she could lean in closer to Callie, who already looked utterly miserable and full of remorse.

The teen pulled back slightly and lowered her gaze, but not before she noticed the woman's expression. Stef was looking at her sternly, but also with sadness and disappointment which made Callie feel even more guilty for how she had just spoken to her.

"Eyes up here, please." When the girl refused to obey, Stef slowly reached forward with one hand to cup her chin and tilt her head up.

"Callie," she said in a low, warning tone. Although Stef felt like she was parenting blindly in the dark with the girl, making it up as she went along, she was determined to send a clear message that what had just happened was unacceptable.

"You are not doing a good job listening to me right now. You know better than to speak to us with that sort of language and disrespect."

"The guitar is our's until you write a page of lines," Stef continued, the words making their way out before she could take them back. She regretted it immediately but knew she couldn't back down now that she had said it. She just hoped that Lena would back her up on this for consistency's sake.

"WHAT! No way!" Callie protested, crossing her arms. "That's not fair!"

"Excuse me?" Stef's tone was clipped in fury. "What's not fair, honey? That we've been telling you countless times since this conversation began to check your attitude, but you haven't? That you choose to behave unacceptably but yet you refuse to accept the consequences? You are right, that's absolutely not fair! To us!"

"There are repercussions to your actions and if you're big enough to defy us, you're big enough to deal with them." She could see Callie's shoulders slump as she berated her, but continued the tongue-lashing; she felt it was deserved this time.

"Callie," Lena said as she gently placed a hand on the teen's shoulder, trying to deescalate. "Do not make this worse. You heard Mom, please go get your guitar."

She hadn't anticipated the girl to wrestle her way out from under her hand and whip around to direct her anger at her. In that moment, Lena was purely collateral damage.

"Why don't you go get it yourself!" Callie shouted at the woman before turning back to Stef.

"And while you're at it—keep it! I'm not doing your fucking lines."

"Hey! We told you to watch your mouth, missy! Don't you dare Callie—don't you dare use language like that again if you know what's good for you."

"You do not get to call the shots here, you are not the parent, and you certainly do not tell me 'no'. The cop raised her voice, reaming the girl out. "Bring me your guitar, this instant! I am not going to ask you again."

Callie's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. She was trying to tell herself that it didn't matter, that it was just a guitar.

But it wasn't true at all.

It did matter.

They had presented her with the oddly shaped package, its gift wrap askew, the very night they had asked her and Jude if they would be alright with getting adopted by them. After Jude had whooped loudly and jumped into Lena's arms and she had spun him around. After Callie felt the brick of abandonment finally lift a little from her chest so she could breathe a bit easier.

And now they were going to take it from her.

It was silly, but she couldn't help but to feel the fragility of the situation. These women could stop the adoption so quickly if they wanted to. As quickly as it took Stef to snap her fingers.

"No." Callie's voice was a whisper now and she felt the lump getting larger in her throat. She did not want Stef to win but her resolve was quickly fading.

The cop could hear the tremor in the girl's voice, a subtle sign indicative of the dissent between what she was saying and how she really felt.

"Two pages, then. I will not tell you again." Stef could see right through Callie's stubbornness and she knew that she had the upper hand this time, as the guitar obviously meant a lot to the teen. The woman could easily take it away herself but knew the lesson would be much more effective if she got Callie to cooperate and do it herself.

"Stef!" Lena said forcefully, shooting her a look. She had noticed Callie's demeanour change and was starting to become uncomfortable with her wife's harshness. "That's enough." _Please,_ she mouthed, as Stef raised her palm to silence her.

"Double-sided, sweets."

That did the trick in ending the stalemate. Callie all but ran to her beloved guitar and back to Stef, before thrusting it into her hands.

"I hate you!" she screamed, storming from the room.


	11. Making Inroads

**Author Note**

Another chapter for you lovely people that's a bit longer and surprisingly drama-free ;) Not to fret, it will ramp up again very soon. I love building in those quieter moments between Callie and Stef to capture the growth of their relationship, as well as to show how nurturing and committed Stef is to Callie's growth. As always, thanks for reading and for all the support. ~bshert

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Making Inroads**

"What was that, _Stef_?" Lena asked in disbelief, turning her attention to her wife who was genuinely puzzled as to why she was being criticized. The cop had assumed that Lena would appreciate her stepping in to handle Callie, especially after the teen had become increasingly confrontational and disrespectful.

"How could you have taken away her guitar? Music is probably the only thing she does right now that's an acceptable outlet for her to cope with her feelings. Not a good idea to use it as a bargaining chip!"

Stef clamped her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose hard, trying to counteract the burning sensation in her sinuses. Taking in a ragged breath, the cop was surprised at how close to tears she was. She couldn't help but to feel particularly sensitive in that moment; in addition to Lena being upset with her, their sweet girl had just declared that she hated her. It had been awhile since any of their children had lashed out in a way that left her feeling emotionally raw and vulnerable. Until Callie and Jude had come along, that is.

"What was I supposed to do, honey? You heard the way Callie was speaking to us—we couldn't just let her get away with that," Stef said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

Lena narrowed her eyes as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I never suggested that Callie didn't deserve consequences," she said impatiently. "Yes, how she behaved was ludicrous but really—confiscating her guitar until she writes us over a hundred lines? You don't think that's a little harsh? We don't even do that at school anymore because our teachers were finding it ineffective."

Sighing, Stef swallowed her pride. Now that Lena had put it that way, she had to admit that having Callie write lines was a bit ridiculous; however, she knew that there was no way she could take it back without looking like she was waffling. And that was the last thing she wanted to convey to Callie at a time she so obviously needed stability, structure, and the security of knowing that boundaries would be firmly enforced without fail each time she tested them.

"I'm sorry, Lena. I didn't realize how much two pages worth would be."

The cop was unable to help but to tear up as she felt sheer frustration from the difficulty her and Lena were having with how to deal with Callie. Also present were feelings of resentment and irritation from always having to be the one going head-to-head with the teen but not being able to count on Lena to give her both the space or the support to do so.

"I just really want Callie to understand that even though she might not trust us one hundred percent right now, she does need to do what we say—even if she doesn't want to. That she's not going to get out of it, no matter how rude and obstinate and hurtful she decides she's going to be with us."

Seeing how upset her wife looked, Lena began to have a change of heart. She certainly hadn't meant to keep questioning Stef, who had been the one doing the majority of the grunt work with Callie and taking time off to stay home and try to bond with her. Though the girl was not making it easy on either of them, she was significantly more combative with Stef, which made it much easier for Lena to be patient.

"Babe, I know," she said softly. "I want the same outcome, I just don't think Callie expected to lose her guitar."

As Stef lost her composure, Lena took a step forward and placed a hand on her wife's arm before Stef could turn away from her to avoid disclosing her feelings.

"You know Callie didn't mean that. She doesn't really hate you, honey," Lena comforted, as Stef smiled brokenly at her. The typical, _it's all good and fine_ look that they gave Callie such a hard time about. Although Lena knew that she couldn't imagine what Stef was feeling, it was apparent that she was devastated. The pair had quite the unique bond; the cop had a knack for being able to read the teen well and Callie seemed to respond to that, at times letting go of her guarded disposition to allow her in.

The cop remained silent, trying to pull herself together. While there were definitely times when Callie pissed her off to no end, she loved that kid, which made her words sting even more. "I'm not sure if I believe you," she said hoarsely as she stared at a distant point on the wall behind her wife so that she would not cry.

"Think baby girl made it quite clear how she felt about me," Stef said plaintively, reaching out to engulf Lena into a hug and taking in the scent of the shampoo that seemed to be ever-present in her wife's thick, tightly wound curls. For awhile, the both of them stood in the same spot, slightly rocking the other.

"Hey…" Lena said, extricating herself from Stef so she could place her hands on the cop's shoulders. "Stop."

"I don't think in that moment she was very happy with you and what she probably hated wasn't so much you, but the fact that she acted out and you wouldn't let her get away with it. It was only yesterday that you told me she was scrambling to spend some time with you. I highly doubt she hated you then, babe," she tried to reassure.

"It's been tough but just think how far we've come. Callie barely said a word when she first came to us. This is progress," Lena tried to point out. "In it's own way it is. Fight-and-flight is progress when you're used to freezing, like she has. Callie's learning to reclaim it because she hasn't been allowed to for so many years."

"I know…I know," Stef acknowledged, remembering the bit of background Bill had given her and Lena about the Jacob kids' experiences in previous homes. "But this is honestly some kinda brutal. I see her struggling and it kills me that I can't do anything for her. Or, we're trying to do the right thing by her but she's just fighting us and fighting us that she's not seeing we're on her side. That hurts and is damn frustrating at the same time."

"Well honey, it's like riding a bike, right? Callie's still learning how to temper the fight in her. And luckily, she sees you as the safe place where she can do that learning without fearing you'll abandon her."

"Indeed. Lucky me."

* * *

Stef couldn't help but to have doubts about whether she had been justified and if she should have done differently as she saw how Callie struggled with completing the lines. After a quiet breakfast and lunch, she made a conscious effort to give the girl the space to decompress, only checking in periodically to show she was still available and no longer angry with her.

Trying to contend with her homework as well as the extra work Stef and Lena had doled out, the teen remained at the kitchen table wondering just how she'd be able to get it all done. In theory, Callie could have finished the lines quickly had she just concentrated. At first, it hadn't even seemed like that big a deal since she had had to do them in elementary school; however, it had turned out to be much more difficult than Callie anticipated. It seemed that every time she put her pencil to the page, an internal battle emerged over whether she should dig her heels in or comply so she could get her guitar back, which she missed having already.

Unknown to Callie, her dilemma was all too obvious to the cop. Stef, too, struggled between giving her the freedom to decide what she wanted to do and ordering her to focus and complete them in one go so it'd be all over and done with. In the end, she decided that it would be a better lesson if Callie had the opportunity to work through it on her own without being subjected to her hovering. As a parent, Stef felt this would be the only way to foster accountability; otherwise, the girl would be just going along with the consequences passively due to being nagged. Judging by the way Callie looked in disappointment at her guitar when she passed by the living room where it sat, the woman was fairly certain that the teen would eventually write them.

* * *

"Hey love, how's it going?" Stef asked as she walked into the kitchen. Looking over Callie's shoulder at what she was working on, the woman hugged her with both arms from behind and kissed the top of her head. Callie had been in low spirits since their altercation and the woman was well aware that she would soon need reassurance to allay her doubts of her place in the family and whether their relationship was okay, as she so often did after getting into trouble with them.

Stef glanced at the papers scattered haphazardly about the table, her own handwriting catching her attention from amidst the mess. _I will use a respectful tone and appropriate language when speaking to others._ Furious when she had impatiently scrawled the words, at one point the page had torn under the impact of her pen. Stef cringed as she remembered handing the sheet to Callie without a word after breakfast and how miserable the teen had looked before slumping down in her chair. Underneath her sentence, Callie's neat writing followed; the teen had almost made it to the end of one side before she put it aside.

"Want help?" the cop offered, seeing blanks throughout the English worksheet Callie was currently plugging away at. "I might remember something from a decade or so ago." Stef saw the girl hesitate and search her face with an expression that was rife with confusion, and she understood that Callie thought she might still be angry with her.

"You had to read it back then, too?" the teen responded, referring to the novel the questions were based on.

"Sure did. Hey! I am not that old," Stef protested, as a small smirk formed on the girl's face.

She pulled up a chair beside Callie's and put on her glasses to look over the questions. "Always a good strategy to do the more straightforward ones and leave the harder ones for later, like you've done," she praised, aware of how much difficulty the youth had been having with adjusting to a charter school. Timothy's class especially had a reputation for being quite high level and Callie had previously told her how daunted she felt by his assignments.

"Okay," Stef read aloud. "Throughout Bridge to Terabithia, Jess' father appears uncaring and unsympathetic. Briefly explain the reason for this type of attitude. What are some things that could have been done to improve their relationship?"

 _Frickin' Timothy,_ the woman cursed under her breath, quickly glancing at the other questions, some of which she felt were too complex for eighth grade. Stef figured the guy was probably another PhD who hadn't been successful at getting a post-doc position at college, leaving him overqualified to teach high school.

Callie knitted her brow; she remembered she had skipped that question because she couldn't think of anything beyond cheesy answers for the second part of the question. "Maybe that's just the way he is, or maybe he was tired because he had to work out of town everyday."

"Okay, good start. They were poor too, so had a lot of financial stress," Stef guided. "What about the fact that Jess and his Dad are from different generations; how do you think that might be a factor in all of this?"

"Huh?" Callie blurted. "Oh…you mean because his dad is traditional and expects him to be tough and the man in the family? So he probably doesn't want to be nice because he doesn't want Jess to be sensitive. He kinda is already."

"Right on. He probably isn't very good at showing his feelings and that makes him come across as being cold or distant, although he probably wants to be nice to his son. Most parents want that, Callie—to have a good relationship with their kids, I mean," she said.

Stef wondered how much of this she could turn into a teachable moment as she watched Callie write the points in. "So, what could be done to make things better between the both of them?"

The teen shrugged. "I dunno, not much. They're just really different and don't talk much. Jess tries not to get in his way too much."

"Mm, I can think of a few things," the woman suggested. "Even though they're different, they could spend more time together which would help them understand each other a bit more. His Dad could learn more about his son's interest in art. Jess could communicate and tell his Dad how he feels when he's being criticized.

Stef questioned, "You don't think these are reasonable options?" when Callie only looked at her incredulously.

"Well, no," the girl said slowly, trying to be patient. "Those are teacher answers, not real life. Mr. Aarons had to work a ton and he didn't have energy or time when he was home to spend with Jess. Plus, he wanted Jess to do more farm work and didn't care that he liked art."

 _"Okay…_ you're right, these are probably the sorts of answers that your teacher would want, so I'd write them in anyway," Stef instructed, pleased to see Callie oblige. "What about increasing communication between the two of them?"

"But how would that even work?" Callie looked frustrated. "You just said his Dad wouldn't be good at talking about feelings."

"Plus that's how you get in trouble," the girl mumbled, shrugging. "Some parents might want to be nice but they have stuff to worry about and not a lot of time for you. If you say something they'll get mad. You're not worth it in the big picture."

Looking down further as she spoke, it was so very clear to the cop that Callie was no longer referring to the assignment. "Sweetheart, you're worth it. You're worth my time," Stef said softly after a pause, saddened by her daughter's obvious mistrust of adults.

* * *

"Let's finish the chapter vocabulary list together before going back to the rest of these questions. You only have a few words left," Stef proposed, not waiting for a response before turning the page over. The truth was that the only question they had attempted had left her exhausted. She was grateful when Callie nodded, giving the go-ahead.

"Rumpus," Stef began.

"A loud noise?"

"Close. Due to what?" Stef said, unlocking and pushing her phone towards Callie so she could Google.

"A fight or a loud argument," Callie read. She neatly wrote the definition in under the term before pushing the syllabus back towards her foster mother so she could read out the next word.

"Prissily."

"Mm. Like stuck up, maybe?" Callie suggested sheepishly as she knew it would not be acceptable.

"You're right, Bug, but I'm not sure if you would get full marks for that. Can you think of another word?"

Stef felt a sense of endearment and amusement as Callie's brow furrowed before she smiled mischievously when she came up with an alternative term. "Hoity-toity!"

"Really, that's the best you could come up with, Cal? You may get points for creativity," the cop laughed. "But I'd add in 'formal' or 'proper' to keep your snobby teacher happy." At that, Callie stared wide-eyed before letting out a giggle.

"Almost done. Cocoon."

"That's easy. That's the silk thing that caterpillars build around them before they become butterflies or moths."

Stef pushed her phone towards the girl yet again. "You can't write 'thing' down as part of the definition. It's too ambiguous."

"It's called a casing," Callie said after a few minutes, beaming that she was able to find the correct term.

"Nice job," the cop praised. "Last one. Shebang."

"When a girl has sex," Callie managed to deadpan for a few seconds before a cheeky smile crept across her face.

 _"Callie!"_ The cop rolled her eyes and tried to maintain an unimpressed expression as she peered over her glasses.

The teen ignored her, barely able to get her next words out as she began to laugh. "Sh— She bangs!"

"Okay, wisenheimer, that's enough," Stef finally managed to scold in mock seriousness, having a great deal of difficulty fighting her own amusement. " _Really, Callie,_ where on earth do you get this stuff, hm? You're lucky Mama's not here!"

It was utterly hopeless, however; seeing her daughter in stitches was contagious and soon, she too was laughing until she started to cry. It was so rare to see Callie act like the thirteen year old she was and the woman would take and hold onto every single moment she could get, inappropriateness and all.

That kid. _Her kid._


	12. Defining Forgiveness

**Chapter 11: Defining Forgiveness**

The both of them had been laughing uncontrollably for several minutes, and in that time period had experienced multiple failed attempts to stop, when Stef swore she heard the teen sniff slightly. When she looked over, she was surprised to see that Callie's laughter had transformed into tears of sadness. "What's wrong, love?" she asked, concerned. However, Callie immediately brought both hands to her face, wanting to keep her tears inconspicuous though she knew the woman had already seen.

"Nothing, I'm fine," the girl denied as she wiped at her eyes. She was still half-laughing but her sudden unhappiness was glaring.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me," Stef said softly. It seemed that as quickly as Callie had come around, she had retreated again, leaving Stef dumbfounded at the abrupt change that had just taken place. She figured that her daughter's feelings of insecurity were likely coming to the forefront given that the distraction of doing homework together had worn off.

The woman wrapped one arm around the girl, drawing her tight against her side and placing a kiss on her temple. "Tell you what, Callie, let's take a break. I've got nothing planned for dinner so could really use your help at the store so I can impress Mama."

"Yeah, okay," Callie said, her stomach in knots as all the feelings she had repressed from earlier that day started to come up again. She was no longer able to hide how miserable and conflicted she felt—stemming from guilt and embarrassment over how she had acted towards the women, as well as frustration over all the consequences she kept managing to accrue and not having any choices in their home.

On top of that, Callie couldn't help but worry that she might just cause them not to want her and Jude anymore. Although it was far from the first time she had gotten into trouble with Stef and Lena for her language, she hadn't ever called them names or told them she hated them before. Her guilt was only magnified when they continued to treat her as if nothing had happened, which left her simply feeling muddled. After everything that she had said and done, Callie couldn't understand how Stef could still be nice to her.

* * *

Stef's hope that some time out of the home would help facilitate some sort of dialogue between her and Callie was proving to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. As time went on, the girl only seemed to become more worried and on edge, and she rushed around the store to try to locate the items on their list as quickly as she could. Even their usual route through the in-store coffee shop with its donut display case failed to make an impression and soon it became clear that Callie had something weighing heavily on her mind.

"How about a long john? You loved the chocolate on it last time," she pointed out. But when Callie hesitated and looked at her dubiously, the cop felt another pang of guilt that she had been too hard on her.

"It's okay, honey," Stef reassured. "Go ahead, pick something."

"Could I have the one with jelly?" Callie finally asked tentatively.

"No chocolate? You're adventurous today!" Stef turned back to the guy working the counter. "One buttermilk glazed donut, and a medium coffee—dark roast with two milk. And for this kid, a jelly-filled donut and a medium mocha with half the espresso, please."

* * *

The both of them had only gotten in the door a few minutes ago and Stef was putting all the groceries away when she heard Callie timidly ask for her.

"Stef?"

The cop froze, smiling to herself before she shut the fridge door. She still remembered the early days filled with her acutely longing for the moment when the siblings would approach her or Lena for anything, so glued at the hip they were and dependent on each other. Eventually though, on their own timeline, each child had opened up in their own way.

 _Jude had been the first, tearfully asking her for a Band-aid after he had stubbed his big toe hard enough that the nail bed had bruised and lifted. Callie's milestone had taken place a few weeks after. Mike had brought over an oversized platter of sushi to celebrate his raise, conscientious to ask that raw items be kept separate for the sake of the kids as Brandon, Jesus, and Mariana would complain over anything that wasn't cooked. With eight bodies in the kitchen all talking at once, only he had noticed that Callie and Jude were hanging back while the rest of the kids dug in. It was only by fluke that both Lena and Stef saw him nod encouragingly at the girl, who met his eyes briefly before letting her gaze dart towards the women._

 _"Can I…is it okay if I try the spicy one?" Callie's voice had been filled with cautiousness, barely perceptible over the noise level. Stef had been so thrilled that she stepped outside into the yard once everyone was settled, where she pinched herself before promptly bursting into angry tears at the thought of what might've happened in their other homes that Callie felt she needed to ask for permission for her and Jude to help themselves to dinner._

Since then, the woman appreciated each and every time Callie would reach out. Even a Hi signalled initiation.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Turning her attention to Callie, the cop had to stifle a laugh at the sight that befell her. The girl had already inhaled the donut and was now sipping at the mocha, evidently trying to make it last as long and keep it as hot as possible. It was quite the undertaking; each time Callie wanted a drink, she would remove the plastic lid, sip sparingly at the scalding drink, and promptly replace the lid.

"Thanks for this."

"You're welcome, Callie. It was just a treat so don't get used to it," Stef replied, winking at the girl who smiled back at her before looking away. Sensing that Callie wanted to talk but knowing she wouldn't if being scrutinized, Stef sat across from her at the table, removed the lid to her coffee, and unwrapped her donut. She let herself demolish half the pastry, hoping to get rid of the evidence before Lena would arrive home and give her a hard time for her eating habits and for destroying Callie's appetite for dinner.

"Everything okay?" She took a big sip as Callie nodded in her usual unconvincing manner.

"Doesn't seem like it, love," Stef commented, deciding to put some pushback on her daughter. All afternoon, she had suspected what might have been the cause of Callie's downtrodden mood and she berated herself for not talking to the girl sooner to make sure she was alright.

"Are you still upset with me, is this what this is all about?" she questioned as she reached across to rub off a spot of whipped cream that was on the teen's nose.

Callie looked up momentarily, entirely caught off guard at the question and embarrassed at the reminder at how she had lashed out at Stef and Lena that morning. She shook her head before focusing on the insulated paper cup in front of her. If anything, Stef should still be mad at her, not the other way around.

Finally able to drum up enough courage, she decided to pull the trigger. "Sorry, Stef," she mumbled, still unable to look up. "I didn't mean to say all those things to you and Lena, call you a bitch or anything like that. I don't hate you, really…" she trailed off, her volume dropping as the feeling of shame crept up.

Stef reached across the table to place a hand on Callie's forearm. "Hey. Look at me," she instructed gently, ducking her head to try and catch her daughter's line of sight.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Thank you very much for the apology," Stef began, seeing how remorseful and nervous she was. The woman searched for the right words, knowing how hard it must have been for Callie to initiate, let alone to apologize for her behaviour.

"I can tell that you put a lot of thought into what you wanted to say and honestly, that shows a lot of maturity and growth in my books."

"I get it, Callie," she empathized. "I know you were pretty upset with Mama and I. Remember how we talked about feelings and actions?" she asked. "You're entitled to your emotions. No one can ever hold them against you because it's not possible to control what we feel. But we are able to choose how we respond, and some are more appropriate than others. Mouthing off was not an acceptable choice, baby. It hurts people's feelings and it will only end up with you getting consequences. Fair?"

The girl nodded. "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings…Lena's too," she said, sounding genuinely remorseful. "I was awful and you were both still nice to me after. Lena made me a lunch before she went to school and left it out for me with a note on top. And you still talked to me and helped me with homework."

The teen pointed at her mocha. "And this."

"Yes, this, and you'd better finish this before I get into the doghouse over letting you have caffeine after three," Stef said, trying to buy some time before addressing the real issue. She wasn't quite understanding yet.

"Were we not supposed to be nice to you?"

The girl looked up, embarrassed, as if she had said something she wished she had kept to herself. "I'm not even close to finishing writing the lines and—I thought that maybe you'd want them done first," she responded quietly as Stef's brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

"Before we could be nice to you," the cop answered knowingly. Callie's silence indicated acceptance.

"Oh, my love…" Stef gasped as she softened her gaze. " _No_. No, no, no. It wasn't ever like that. Losing your guitar and having to write lines to get it back was a consequence that had everything to do with you swearing, hitting, and being lippy. It had nothing, you hear me, _nothing_ to do with our love. That _never_ went away," she said, desperate for Callie to take what she was saying seriously.

The cop suddenly realized how she had botched this. She hadn't made any effort to resolve things with Callie after the fight, thinking she needed the space; because of that the teen thought the woman was still upset with her. That was why she had seemed surprised when Stef had offered to buy her a snack. And it also explained Callie's rush at the store: she was rushing to get home to finish the lines. Not to get her guitar back, but to get her forgiveness.

"You're forgiven because you apologized and I can see that you know where you went wrong. I don't withhold forgiveness because you're not done your lines, Bug. I thought that was understood."

"That's good," Callie whispered. "Do I still have to do them?" she asked, after a pause.

"Yes," Stef replied patiently, amused by the sliver of hope present in her daughter's question, "because in this house we own up to our mistakes and we don't expect any less from you."

"But I forgot to tell you to double space," she said, offering an olive branch that caused Callie to perk up. At least the amount would be a bit more manageable. The cop took a deep breath—now that the teen had relaxed, she wanted to take the opportunity to set the message straight, for she had a pretty good idea of the picture that had been drawn for Callie.

"Cal. If the adults in some of the homes you were in ever stopped helping you, stopped caring for you, gave you the silent treatment or put you down when you got in trouble, that was wrong," Stef asserted as the teen glanced at her in astonishment, clearly the first time she was hearing this message. "Baby, it was very wrong."

"Being part of a family means that we fight and make mistakes. We'll do and say things that we wish we hadn't. The important thing is that we love and support each other throughout and not hold each others' mistakes up as leverage against them to make them feel horrible. You might have to deal with the fallout of your actions but we would never hold a grudge or belittle you, honey, to make you pay for it."

"I love you. I love you just as much today as I did yesterday and everyday." Stef spoke in a soothing tone of voice, as the girl nodded and dropped her head. "No matter what you do or say in anger, we will keep loving you, and I will keep reminding you of this until you believe me, and then some. Understood?" She was trying as hard as she could to convince Callie that this much was true, that she meant what she said even if she was sure it would be years before the girl would believe her.


	13. Disquiet

**Chapter 12: Disquiet**

Dawn arrived sooner than Callie hoped. Nervous about the pending appointment, the butterflies in her stomach ensured she had slept fitfully and were still every bit as restless when she woke the next day.

"CALLIE, GET A MOVE ON! BREAKFAST IN TEN." As Stef's cheerful greeting echoed from the stairwell, the girl groaned into the pillow which she had shoved over her face. She couldn't understand how the cop could act as though everything was just peachy while forcing her into something that made her so incredibly uncomfortable. Feeling trapped made Callie want to fight, if only to prove to herself and Stef and Lena that she wasn't as helpless as they made her feel. However, at this point, she was too tired and knew that ultimately, it'd be pointless to try to challenge them.

Admittedly, it was their leverage over her that upset her the most. Both women had made it clear that she needed to do what they said. And no matter how determined Callie would start out being when she decided to disobey, somehow, she always managed to lose. Being grounded and having lost countless privileges over the past few days was enough to dissuade Callie from courting any more trouble than she already was in.

It was precisely this concept that terrified Callie the most—being in a position where she felt as though she had no choice but to listen.

In all the other foster homes she and Jude had been in, the only unspoken expectation was to keep their heads down and avoid doing anything that could possibly inconvenience the adults. There hadn't been rules over attending school, finishing homework, grades, watching TV, or eating on time. There certainly weren't any arguments about going to "see someone" as Lena had put it. The lack of structure meant that they were both free to come and go as they pleased, and to generally do what they wanted without fear of too much repercussion.

Stef and Lena, on the other hand, ran their home very differently. There were rules about almost everything. Curfew, lights out, meal times, "attitude", checking in by phone when outside the home—even some of the music she wanted to listen to. As well, school, which used to be an escape from being around the adults, suddenly became a source of stress. Given how involved the women were as parents and with Lena being Vice Principal, it was impossible to keep the delineation between the two places. Every single incident managed to make its way back to Lena and then home where it would be addressed usually with a painfully awkward talk and some sort of consequence. Having been used to so much freedom, the new arrangement had moments where it felt absolutely suffocating, and Callie couldn't help but to feel as though she was caged.

At the same time, both Stef and Lena took the time to check in with each of their children, including her and Jude, and never hesitated to step in to manage a situation if there was a problem. Neither of them had to worry about their safety or if they'd have enough to eat. Unlike other homes, the women made a conscious effort to carve out time to spend with them, encouraged them to talk about their interests, and invited their opinions. Though Callie would never admit it, she had missed the comfort and affection that Stef and Lena were willing to give, easily drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

For the most part, they were genuinely nice people and it was part of the reason why Callie hated it whenever she disappointed them—for fear that their warmth and security would be taken away.

It was amazing, something she never would have expected after their experiences in the system, and after so long going without, it felt _good_ to have it again. But slowly, a quiet, familiar unease had pushed its way in and Callie couldn't understand why. Initially, the teen had felt guilty for what she thought was her ingratitude; but gradually, she began to realize that everything she wanted from Stef and Lena came at a huge expense to her freedom.

She thought about the countless times she had wished to have a family again—something as close as possible to what she and Jude had had before. Always on her birthday, her Mom and Dad's birthdays, and _that_ date—the one when everything she knew had toppled to reveal their new truth.

Finally, her dream was within reach; however, she hadn't expected all the emotions it would evoke in her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and standing in the way of her ability to fully reciprocate. She hadn't anticipated that getting a family would be this difficult.

After all, wasn't this what she had wanted?

* * *

Stef glanced at the time and sighed; she had been trying to get Callie out of bed for the last thirty minutes without any success. Because of the girl's rough night, her and Lena had decided to let her doze while the rest of the family got up and ready for school and work. But now, Stef regretted not keeping Callie on her normal routine. It was late enough in the morning now that it was apparent the teen was simply dragging her feet, as she often did when faced with something she didn't want to do.

"CALLIE! IN THIS CENTURY PLEASE!" Stef yelled when ten more minutes had passed. They didn't have to leave for another hour and a half at least but what she wanted to avoid was for Callie to come bounding down at the last possible minute, leaving her barely enough time for breakfast before needing to get in the car. On top of that, it was Friday—the last day she would have the teen home—and as much as Stef was anxious to return to work, she also wanted to spend as much time as she could with Callie.

The relief she felt when she finally heard footsteps running in the hallway and the bathroom door slam was quickly replaced by exasperation when the shower turned on. On any other day, Stef might've been tempted to walk straight into the bathroom to remind the teen that a time limit to do a task meant actually completing it in its entirety, not just starting it within that time frame. However, anticipating the mood Callie was probably in, she decided to exercise patience and let it go. Instead, she rinsed and loaded dishes into the dishwasher, only making her way upstairs once the kitchen was tidied and her coffee had been refilled.

Stef knocked on the bathroom door before heading to the girls' room to pick an outfit for Callie. A crumpled shopping bag on the floor of the closet, which contained a pair of skinny, cropped overalls, made her job easy. It had been the result of Lena's most recent shopping trip for the girl. Though average height, Callie was slight for her age, making it difficult to find clothes that would fit her frame. Needless to say, her wife had been thrilled when she found a style that would work.

 _Lena could barely contain her excitement when Callie finally emerged from her bedroom wearing the new overalls which she had been cajoled into trying on. Stef could only beam as her wife fussed over their daughter who smiled despite looking slightly uncomfortable._

 _"Turn, let me see if the legs fit," Lena instructed as she admired the dark denim and three quarter length roll up cuffs, adjusting the shoulder straps for Callie._

 _"Oh my goodness," she exhaled as she took a step back. "They're beautiful on you, Bug."_

 _"Really, Lena?"_

 _"Yes, really. What do you think? Do you like them?"_

 _"Yeah, they're really soft. Thanks so much, Lena." Callie's eyes were wide, with more gratitude than Stef had seen in any of her other kids. "I love the pockets the most," she said as she jammed her hands in, looking a little too much like a punk for the cop's liking._

Smiling at the memory, Stef ripped the tags off and retrieved a grey tee before neatly folding the items into a pile. Fighting the urge to lie down in her daughter's rumpled, unmade bed, she straightened both of the twin beds instead.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Callie had still not emerged from her shower. Her patience wearing thin, Stef marched across the hall and rapped on the bathroom door once again. "CALLIE! You have exactly one minute, starting now, to get that tush of your's out here before I come in!" she yelled, setting the timer on the phone. Immediately, Stef heard the water shut off and the shower curtain fly open. With only seconds remaining before the alarm would go off, Callie finally appeared. Though a towel was firmly wrapped around herself, the upper half of her tank top was already drenched from her wet hair.

"What?" Callie asked with the slightest hint of attitude, cross that the cop had put an end to her stalling.

Stef raised her eyebrows, willing herself to ignore the eye roll and scowl Callie had just greeted her with that could rival an older teenager's. "Good morning to you, too," she responded sternly, hoping it would be enough of a warning to keep the girl in line as she placed the outfit into her arms. "Here, get a move on."

"And yes, you're going to change your top. It looks like you showered with it on," she added, before Callie could argue with her.

"What, I'm not even allowed to pick my own clothes now?" Callie asked, her voice rising in annoyance.

Her sullenness caught the woman entirely off guard given that they had just made up yesterday. "No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. That ship sailed when you decided not to get out of bed when you were supposed to," she said simply, taking a deep breath. As the teen tried to push past her in a huff, Stef put out an arm to stop her.

"Three minutes. When I get into your room, I want to see you dressed and this tone of your's gone because that is _not_ the sweet girl I know you are. We are running late but there will always be time for us to have a little chat if that is what you need. Do I make myself clear?" she asked, adopting a dangerously quiet tone that rarely failed to get Callie to shape up.

"Uh uh," Stef reproved when the teen tried to quickly sidestep her. Seeing how unhappy Callie was despite her best efforts to hide behind her angry words, the cop dropped her voice even further. "You know better than that. I need an acknowledgement."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

When the alarm went off a second time, Stef was relieved to find Callie by the window, fully dressed and rubbing her hair furiously with the towel. The teen gave her an apologetic smile but it was a poor attempt at masking both her doleful expression and the tears in her eyes. Immediately, Stef understood that this was indicative of a picture in which everything was far from alright.

"Oh, Bug…come here," she said sympathetically, steering Callie by the shoulder towards the bed before sitting down at the edge. Pulling the teen close in towards her so that they were facing each other, with Callie standing in between her legs, Stef took the towel from her and began to dry her hair for her. As much as Callie stood there looking uncomfortable, refusing to look anywhere but her bare feet, she allowed the cop to fuss with her hair.

"What's wrong, honey? Tell me what's going on," she prodded, as the teen only shook her head.

Callie knew very well that if she engaged at this point she might begin to get tearful, which was the very last thing she wanted. At the same time, her stomach was in knots and it was beginning to get harder and harder to hide how upset she felt over how Stef and Lena could make her feel this conflicted.

 _The feeling of being cared for and loved._ Getting used to it, liking it, and wanting that so much that she had caught herself at times trying to spend more time around the women.

 _Wanting to stay out of trouble._ To keep them happy for her and Jude's sake so they could stay. Because they had done so much for them.

 _Infuriated at constantly being told what to do. The new rules and consequences._

 _Wanting to fight them to show that she didn't have to listen to them._ Who were they to just show up after all these years of her and Jude being forced to watch their own backs, only to act like they owned the place? They had no right and the fact that they didn't see that was annoying.

"Please don't make me do this, Stef," she finally begged. "I— I really don't want to go, okay? I'll do better, I swear. I'll listen to you and Lena and I won't break your rules anymore."

The cop felt a twinge of regret as she questioned for the first time why Lena had felt the need to rush this appointment. Perhaps it would've been better to ease Callie up to the idea by introducing it earlier than just a day before. "My love," she fussed, gently placing her palm on the side of Callie's face and tucking the flyaway strands behind her ear. Stef spoke softly, hoping it would ease the girl's anxieties about the appointment. "Mama and I, we aren't sending you to counselling as punishment. We just think it might be good for you to talk to another adult."

"But I don't want to talk—"

At this point, Callie's voice was escalating to a whine and Stef could see just how overwhelmed and disappointed the girl looked. She continued to stroke the girl's cheek, knowing how hard it must have been for Callie to ask and show her vulnerability.

"Sweetheart. No." Though firm in keeping boundaries, Stef kept her tone gentle and offered a reassuring smile as the teen looked to her in desperation. "We aren't doing this right now. We are not going to go through a repeat of yesterday morning, I won't have that."

"Everything is going to be okay," she tried to comfort. "I promise you, honey, that there is no way she's going to make you talk about anything you don't want to."

"Yeah, right." Callie turned away, feeling both foolish and angry at the cop's dismissiveness. She should've known better; Stef never let her get out of anything, especially if it was something the cop knew she didn't want to do.

"Babygirl, talk to me." Stef's voice was tinged with concern as she turned the girl towards her again. This time, Callie fought harder to shrug out of the woman's grasp.

"Whatever. Forget it."

* * *

 **Author Note:**

What do you think is behind all this fighting against going to therapy?


	14. Monsters, Awakened

**Author Note:**

Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season with the people you love most and all the best in the coming new year. Please read with care; chapter contains allusions to child abuse. ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Monsters, Awakened**

Stef tried to make small talk as Callie prolonged breakfast by nibbling off individual squares of her Eggo waffle. She couldn't fault the girl for feeling as though therapy was punishment; when Callie had balked at the appointment, instead of trying harder to find out what was behind it, she had threatened her with the school counsellor to coerce her into compliance. It had not been her finest moment as a parent. In fact, lately, it seemed that situations which brought to light her deepest insecurities and ineptitude were a common phenomena—emphasizing the feeling that she was being a terrible mother to Callie.

"Let's do something together on the way home," the cop suggested, trying not to take it personally that her attempts to cajole Callie had been going nowhere. "Maybe stop somewhere for a dessert or takeout and we can eat in that park you like, the one with the dock and the pond? We could even go to dinner if you wanted to, honey. As long as we do it early enough so that I can order stuff to bring home for everyone else."

"That's okay," Callie shook her head sadly, "Lena likes it when we all eat together."

* * *

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the medical building, Stef was desperate to hear from her daughter. "Love, please don't shut me out," she begged. "I know you're not happy with me right now for this situation. It sucks, I know. Just tell me what I can do to make things easier," she said, hoping Callie would identify something. However, the only response she received was the sound of the door slamming shut a little louder than it should have.

* * *

Gisella Wiseman was a middle-aged, well-dressed woman who didn't hesitate to get down to business right after introductions were made. "The first thing I'd like you to do is an activity that tells me about your family—how it looks like right now and how it compares to how it was before. That way, I get to learn about how your family changed over the last few years.

She paused. "There are also a few questions I always need to ask at the first session. Most of the youth I worked with have found it helpful to have something else to focus on to get through some of the difficult parts. It's up to you whether you would like your foster mom to stay. If you would like that, I do recommend that it be for the first half hour only because it's important to keep some time where we can talk privately too. How does that sound, Callie?"

"Yeah," the teen responded. Her dismissiveness caused Stef to wonder if Callie was already spacing out. Dr. Wiseman's sessions were more expensive than other child psychologist's, solely because she was one of a handful in the city that worked with trauma in children and youth with foster care involvement. At $240 per session and with extended medical from the police department that only covered a portion of the cost, the cop definitely felt the pressure of wanting Callie to engage more than her usual self.

However, Callie surprised her, turning to Dr. Wiseman to clarify what she thought she had heard. There was no trace of the slight attitude that had just been present. "It's okay if Stef stays?"

Just as quickly, Callie looked to the cop. "Only if you want to," she added in a small voice that belied the confidence she wished to portray as she directed her gaze down. Even as she offered the out, she really didn't want Stef to take it; as much as she blamed her for the current situation, Dr. Wiseman was a stranger and she didn't want to be questioned alone.

Seeing how dispirited Callie looked as she sank even further down in her seat, Stef was caught off guard; her daughter was extremely reserved so she had assumed that Callie would've opted for privacy. At the same time, she was grateful to feel wanted.

"Of course, love. I can stay as long as you want, and as long as I'm allowed. You just let me know when you want me to leave." Not wanting to make promises she couldn't keep, Stef turned to the psychologist. "Sounds like it'd just be for the assessment?"

Dr. Wiseman nodded. "Correct. It's always helpful to include the guardian when possible for the first part when we complete the questionnaire. I have time set aside afterwards to speak privately with Callie; some topics are concerned with family dynamics and I like to ensure that everyone can speak freely. There is an opportunity at the end of each session to meet with the parent or guardian to go over recommendations to establish consistency with the support the child receives at home."

"I only ask that that guardians refrain from questioning their children about the content that is revealed; however, information can always be offered so feel free to participate. Questions can be saved for the end and of course, information can be shared with the other parent as you see fit. And Callie, you can call a time out at any time," Dr. Wiseman clarified, as mother and daughter nodded.

The woman reached for a stack of laminated cards and a sheet of white paper that was loosely folded, sitting off to the side of the large table they were sitting at. Standing, Dr. Wiseman laid out the paper and drew three large columns using a marker. "Are you familiar with Venn diagrams?" she asked, spurring Callie to roll her eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes," she responded as she labeled the middle column _BOTH_ and the one on the right _Stef+Lena_ and gestured to the stack. Nearly twenty years of experience had familiarized the psychologist with the myriad ways in which young people who had been hurt put up a front to hide it, and Callie's disapproval did nothing to phase her.

"Each card has a describing word or a characteristic on it. Your first task is to figure out and label which family you want to compare your current one with," she explained, tapping the column to the left. "You'll go through each card, determine whether the word applies to one or both families, and then place it in its corresponding spot. While you work on that I'll go through some questions with you. Do you have questions for me?"

At this point Callie was beginning to feel pissed off over the ridiculous activity. "Nope," she responded tersely, this time glaring at the woman.

* * *

Over the years working as a cop, Stef had attended mandatory Critical Incident Stress Counselling following particularly harrowing cases she was assigned to and near-misses. It didn't take her long to understand the rationale behind the activity her daughter had been asked to do. For Callie, who tended to use avoidance tactics when intimidated or confronted by things she didn't like, giving her something to focus on was a better way to question her.

Dr. Wiseman was skilled, starting with simple questions about Callie's full name, birthday, where she was born, and her interests before beginning the assessment.

"Have you heard of the word trauma?"

"Mhm," Callie responded, her tone noncommittal as she moved **Affectionate** into the middle column, which depicted the overlap between the four adults: Mom and Dad, Stef and Lena.

"What do you think it means?"

After a lengthy pause, the girl repeated the definition as best she could remember from group. "When something terrible happens. Murder, house fires…maybe an accident?"

"Exactly. Those things can be traumatic because they're often overwhelming, scary, and threaten someone's sense of safety. They're hard to cope with so people usually feel helpless in these situations. You gave some examples of one-time events but trauma can also be caused by things that happen repeatedly over a period of time. Can you think of some examples like that?"

The woman paused, allowing enough silence to pass until it was obvious Callie wasn't going to answer. "Poverty, being separated from loved ones, violence at home. Have you had experiences that I or Stef might think are traumatic?"

"Dunno what you guys might think," Callie said quietly, bristling at the question. Her irritation rose as she saw Dr. Wiseman scribble notes onto the notepad, despite her efforts to avoid giving the woman anything with substance.

"Callie, some of these questions are difficult. You can pass if you feel uncomfortable but otherwise it's important that you try to answer them. Good to go?" Dr. Wiseman's voice was all business as she took out another form from a manila folder.

"Mhm."

The cop watched as the woman ticked _Yes_ for _Has anyone close to you died?_ and _Did a household member go to prison?_ She was grateful that the woman remembered the answers, likely from the information Lena had already provided, sparing Callie from having to endure them.

Admittedly, there was an element of self-preservation on her part as well. While Stef was thoroughly grateful to have been asked to stay, she was unsure if she was ready to hear what might come, and her gut instinct told her it wouldn't be long before her apprehensiveness was confirmed.

"Yes or no. Did a parent or adult in the home often hit, push, grab, slap, or hurt you in a way that left marks or were injured?"

"Which house?" Callie asked casually as she placed **Trustworthy** in the middle column, focusing on the cards before her to avoid eye contact with either of the women.

Stef's fought the urge to cry with Callie's attempt for clarification, defaulting the answer to _yes_ ; her and Jude had been in at least one home where they were hurt intentionally. There would've been no need for further explanation otherwise. Although the cop had always known that the siblings had likely been abused from their behaviour and accidental slips of the tongue from the younger boy, it didn't make it any less easy to hear Callie validate it.

"Any of them."

There was a long pause as the teen deliberated if she should answer. It wasn't like the cop was completely in the dark about her and Jude, anyway. But at the same time, Callie really didn't want to give in and make way for discussions she didn't want to have. Plus, the last time she had stolen a glance at Stef, she had seen the tears—and as much as she was pissed off at her, she didn't want to make her any sadder than she obviously was.

She heard Dr. Wiseman start up again. "Callie, could you tell me—"

"Pass," she said definitively, hoping the woman would get the message.

"Yes or no. In any of the homes you were in, did a parent or an adult often swear at, insult, humiliate or put you down, or act in a way that made you scared you might get hurt?

"Pass."

Stef fought to keep her composure intact with every ambiguous, dismissive _pass_ Callie gave which the cop took as a _yes_. Because if it hadn't happened at all, it would've been _no._ As the questioning gave way to truths that tore at her heartstrings, her anger at every single person who had failed Callie and Jude and had become another perpetrator compounded exponentially.

Callie had just turned thirteen when she came to live with them. Still at an age when she was in need of care and firm guidance, but whose life circumstances had forced her to grow up quickly in many ways. Wisdom juxtaposed with the girl's reluctance and apprehensiveness emphasized her babyfaced features more than ever, making the revelations all the more upsetting and disturbing.

"Yes or no. In any of the homes you were in, did you often feel you didn't have enough to eat?

"No!"

Immediately, Stef's bullshit alarm went off. "That's…that's not true, honey. We both know it isn't," she gently corrected, regretting it as soon as her daughter looked to her with betrayal written in her expression. Then again, if progress was to be made, Callie needed to know to be honest even if she wasn't going to talk.

Dr. Wiseman turned to the teen. "Would it be okay with you if I let Stef share her thoughts?"

"It doesn't matter," Callie muttered bitterly, both hurt and annoyed at how the cop had butted in. It wasn't any of her business. "She already did, anyway."

"No. Don't do that. It _matters,_ Callie!" she hissed impatiently. "It _matters_ that you threw up everything you ate before noon because you weren't used to having anything for breakfast. It _matters_ that Jude still thinks to this day that a can of Chef Boyardee and a jello cup as _fruit_ is a balanced meal." The woman tried to control the tremor in her voice as she described her youngest's startling admission the day she and Lena found decomposing food in the bedroom him and Jesus shared. "He feared my wife and I would take away food if he got in trouble," Stef explained.

Callie flinched inwardly as she listened. Hunger wasn't something she wanted to remember, but unfortunately, Stef had given Dr. Wiseman the in that she had been looking for. "What do you think of what your foster mother shared?"

"It sucks," the teen replied, her voice pitching slightly.

"What were meal times like in the other homes?"

"Just me and Jude usually," Callie shrugged in defeat. There was no point in hiding it now that the truth was out there.

"We really didn't mind," she minimized. "Most foster parents make you eat at a different time from their real kids so they can have their own family time and…so no one notices if you have to eat different food or get less."

"Did you try to tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone _what?"_ The girl couldn't help the attitude that crept in, irritated that the woman refused to let the issue slide.

" _Callie_ ," she heard her foster mom reprove. Though she wasn't willing to meet the cop's eyes, she just knew the sad, disappointed look that was probably being directed her way. "I didn't," she finally replied, a little more defensively than she intended. "Jude did…but it was an accident, he didn't know," she insisted automatically.

"What happened?"

Callie's defenses weakened as the old memory began to awaken, a monster rearing its ugly head. "In the first home Bill made us go to see this lady like you," she said, using air quotes, "a talking doctor." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Jude was little. One day she asked us if we had any questions and he asked how come foster kids weren't allowed seconds or to eat with the rest of the family. She kept asking questions and we kept answering them wrong," Callie mumbled, her face burning. "We asked her not to say anything but she said she had to and we got into trouble."

"No, baby. You were not in the wrong," Stef whispered, placing a hand on Callie's knee as the girl scowled and crossed her arms. "You were anything but wrong," she repeated sadly, sadly, incredulous that her daughter believed she and Jude were at fault.

"What sort of trouble?" Dr. Wiseman pressed.

What was it with this woman and needing to have everything spelled out for her, Callie thought, as she grabbed a handful of cards and carefully placed **protective, reliable,** and **caring** in the middle column. She stalled, wondering how much she should say but figured now was as good a time as any. With Stef there, she felt a little more brave.

"When Bill drove us to the house he checked the kitchen and asked our foster mother stuff about what we'd get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It didn't really look good for us because there was a lot of food in the kitchen and she told him about what she cooked. And she did," Callie elaborated.

Having read Bill's summary of the impromptu welfare check, the cop straightened, knowing exactly how things had been left off that day. She watched Callie almost slam down cards in frustration. **Easygoing, permissive** for Colleen and Donald; **strict** for her and Lena's; **open-minded, fair, dependable,** and **protective** for everyone.

"Jeanine was a really good cook, way better than Mom. We'd watch her make lasagna and beef stew…fish and chicken," the girl said softly. "But um, she didn't tell the part about how we weren't allowed to eat what she cooked. That was for her real kids."

Callie's stomach turned as she recalled the visceral horror that set in as the heavy front door to the house finally closed. As the realization set in that Bill was leaving her and Jude there and that they were about to pay for their mistake.

"We were on a hot lunch program at school so we just had to be good about eating as much as we could then for a few days. Not like we were hungry all the time," she offered, wanting to alleviate her own distress at the recollection as well as Stef's, which she gathered from the trembling exhale that emanated from beside her. Having only succeeded in making the cop feel worse, Callie didn't dare look up for fear that if she did, she would accidentally catch a glimpse of the woman's sadness in her peripheral vision.

The teen hadn't meant to sound like such a smart aleck about it. It was true. She would've happily accepted an arrangement where lunch was the only meal of the day for a whole week if it had meant erasing the part where the foster mother, enraged, took out her anger on Jude. If it had meant her brother could've avoided his first brush with violence, which left both of their innocence and sense of safety shattered in its wake.

* * *

 **Author Note:**

Was Stef out of line for stepping in?


	15. Monsters, Rearing their Ugly Heads

**Author Note:**

 **This was a tough write. Please read with care: graphic description of physical and emotional abuse of a minor.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Monsters, Rearing their Ugly Heads**

"But you said she could stay," Callie's protested when it was suggested Stef take a break from the session. Fully understanding that it wasn't a request, the girl nervously looked down into her lap. "I want you to stay," she insisted, quieter this time. Even though only half an hour had elapsed, the assessment had left her feeling drained and she definitely did not want to be left alone with someone she didn't know who was so skilled at drawing answers out of her.

Hearing the alarm in Callie's voice, Stef crouched down and gave her daughter's knee a squeeze. "It'll be alright, sweetheart. You're doing great," she reassured, as Callie looked at her pleadingly like a lamb being sent to slaughter. "I'll be right outside in the waiting room where we were sitting before."

"Tell you what. Let's reevaluate in fifteen minutes," Dr. Wiseman stepped in, hoping the compromise would alleviate Callie's nervousness. "I want to make sure we have time together to go over the family activity. If you'd still like Stef to be here, we can invite her back in."

"I've had too much coffee today and need the bathroom, anyway," Stef said, standing up and giving the teen a peck on the forehead before she could argue again. "You're going to do just fine."

* * *

"What's the very first thing that comes to mind when you look at these columns?" the psychologist asked a little while after Stef had left the room.

"Redundancy," Callie mumbled petulantly, put off that Stef refused to stay even after she had mustered up the courage to ask. It had been the second time that morning that the cop had readily dismissed her, the first instance taking place when Callie pleaded not to go to the appointment. She should've known better.

"Fair enough. Anything else someone might notice when looking at this for the first time?"

The girl fumed at how difficult she was finding it to ignore the woman. "I guess a lot of the words are in the middle," she finally offered, worried that if she didn't say anything that Stef and Lena would accuse her of not trying.

"Nearly all the cards are in the column that represent your parents, Stef, and Lena," Dr. Wiseman agreed, pointing out certain words. "You described all of them as being loving, trustworthy, affectionate, rational. Can you read out some of the other qualities they share that you value?"

"Uhm, okay." The teen hesitated, still not understanding the rationale behind the activity. "Caring…reliable…fair, I guess. Protective, and forgiving, and warm."

"Loving." The word caught in her throat. Never before had she described any foster parent as being loving—not once. Until Stef and Lena, that is. She felt it through the little, every day things both women did. Taking the time to find out their favourite things to eat and adding it to the weekly rotation. Straightening her comforter and saying goodnight every night. The extra towel left on the bathroom door for her hair when she remembered to take only one. The time Stef noticed her discomfort from her pullover's itchy tag and cut it off for her while she remained still, anxious of getting nicked.

Dr. Wiseman paused, directing her own attention to the differences to steer the conversation further with the teen. "What were some qualities you decided were unique to your parents?"

Not five minutes had passed since Stef had left and Callie was already glancing at the clock, wishing the session would end. "Easygoing. Lighthearted. Permissive. Lenient," she read out robotically.

"It sounds like you think your foster Moms are more authoritative than your Mom and Dad were. Some of the words you placed in their column were demanding, strict, controlling, and harsh. I also see you described them as being unfair sometimes. That must be a pretty big adjustment, Callie."

"Yeah," the girl conceded, refusing to meet the doctor's gaze. "I guess so."

"What makes them controlling?" Dr. Wiseman asked casually as Callie looked up, nervousness apparent on her face.

The girl shrugged reflexively, putting her hands into her pockets. "Stef's like a dictator. She's always on my case," she muttered.

"How so?"

"It's annoying. She always wants to know what I'm doing and with who, where I want to go, and wants me to do everything her way otherwise she gets mad and yells. But if anyone else argues and yells, then we get in trouble," the teen vented.

"Can I ask why it's upsetting that Stef has more expectations and rules for you than what you're used to?"

Suddenly, the initial satisfaction that Callie felt over being able to tattle on the cop gave way to dismay; she kicked herself internally for not following through with her resolve to stop giving Dr. Wiseman stuff to help continue her questioning. Surprised by the unexpected tears that clouded her vision, Callie felt her defences begin to crumble. "It's just not fair," she finally blurted, equal parts sulk and frustration.

The doctor smiled encouragingly at her as she thread the pencil into the clamp of the clipboard and set it down. "Go on, it's alright," she coaxed. Pushing her chair back from the table, she crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands at her knee.

"They—they weren't there for us before! And Jude and I, we were fine holding our own. It feels like all of a sudden they're like barging in and wanting us to change everything and do what they say, and it's not fair."

"They didn't know what it was like," Callie mumbled.

"Ah, I see." Dr. Wiseman truly empathized with what she was hearing. It was a common thread that united many of the children and youth she saw in her practice who had relied for too long on themselves and had had the misfortune of being in the care of adults who didn't have their best interests at heart. "You don't think Stef and Lena have the right to tell you what to do because they weren't there for you before, when things were hard. I agree with you, Callie. One hundred percent. Someone you trusted should have been there to take care of you and your brother and make sure things would be okay."

"Lena tells me that you moved around quite a bit before their home; I imagine that would have been pretty chaotic for you and Jude. The independence you had over the other parts of your life probably helped give you a sense of control, even though you shouldn't have had to manage things on your own. So, I'd like to challenge you to ask yourself, what really bothers you more—that Stef and Lena weren't there, or that the adults who _were_ there weren't doing what they should have been?"

The psychologist paused before continuing. "Now, for the first time in a long time, you have a stable home where you're cared for and the adults are able to give some direction. Your foster mothers tell me that your adoption is being processed! _THAT_ —is— _GREAT_!" Dr. Wiseman said animatedly, causing a sheepish smile to appear on the teen's face. "But this means you've lost some say in how you go about your life, hasn't it?" she asked knowingly.

Callie's face immediately fell. "Yeah."

"I can see why that would feel unfair. Stef and Lena are a lot like your Mom and Dad, too, and that probably makes things a bit confusing," the woman ventured a guess, receiving a nearly imperceptible nod of agreement. Noticing the girl struggle to keep her tears at bay, she knew the end of the session was near. "I'm guessing that the similarities are comforting but the differences make it hard—they remind you that your Mom and Dad aren't here."

Trying hard not to lose her composure, Callie stared at the opposing wall, focusing on the motivational posters that annoyed her to no end. The worst offender of all was a poster of an elephant with the caption, _No matter how far you have traveled in the wrong direction, you can always turn around._

"Can we be done now?" Callie blurted in frustration, standing quickly before the woman could think to say anything else. For sure, if Stef were present, she knew the cop wouldn't let her go so easily with what she had just said. But it was hard to care at this point. Dr. Wiseman's words broke her as though she were cheap porcelain.

"Tell you what, Callie. We're done for today. Great work. Can you go find Stef and let her know I just need her for the last half hour? There are some snacks in the back room you can help yourself to while you wait for us to finish up."

* * *

"My impression is that there are more than a few things going on. The most obvious is the trauma from being separated from her parents at a young age and the abuse and neglect she experienced in at least some of her placements. The talking back, impulsivity, mistrust, and deliberate disobedience that Lena described all stem from that; most of these things were likely learned to protect herself from both physical and emotional harm. Remind me when Callie entered foster care?"

"Oh, geez." The cop paused to do the quick mental calculation. "She was eight. Her birthday was a couple months after."

"Right, I remember your wife mentioning that now. The fact that Callie entered foster care as a preteen is also significant." Noticing Stef fight back tears, Dr. Wiseman handed over the tissue box.

"Thank you. Excuse me," Stef whispered brokenly. Her career had left her all too familiar with cases of child endangerment and mistreatment. Rarely had she lost her composure when dealing with children who were apprehended; however, it was altogether a different story now that it was Callie—someone she was building both an attachment to and a history with.

"Transitioning into adolescence is difficult for any child, even in healthy, supportive environments. Most people regard it as physical development but it's as much about emotional growth, too. Callie learned quickly to rely on herself because there wasn't anyone she could trust. That's why she appears to be very self-driven in some areas but slightly behind in others," the psychologist explained. "Under normal circumstances, emotional growth follows age, but that was not true for Callie. She was given a high level of autonomy and responsibility when she didn't have the emotional wherewithal to deal with it, meaning she didn't get the chance to develop emotional maturity in other aspects."

"That is frustrating on both ends right now. You and Lena are doing the right thing trying to rein it in and to give age appropriate expectations. She doesn't see that because it's never been that way; she notices the changes without recognizing things are for the better."

"We figured as much." Stef sighed, shaking her head. "So what can we do?" Although she appreciated everything the woman was telling her, she was more concerned with how she would apply it to parenting.

"A lot of what you've already been doing already. Keep her on a predictable routine to create a sense of safety and control. Note any triggers and model appropriate ways of coping to help her get through them. Take Callie's lead on if she wants to talk; sometimes, she will need to be pushed while other times it will be more appropriate for her to bottle."

"Patience and consistency with clear consequences for behavior should help decrease the acting out, but it will take time. I would suggest engaging her in making some of the rules in discussion with you and your wife. Continue being firm and consistent when disciplining, and provide lots of reassurance that your love and attention is unconditional throughout and afterwards. Lena mentioned that you are the main disciplinarian of the children and there isn't anything wrong with that, but Callie will need to understand and feel secure in knowing that she has two parents who are on the same page. Make sure this is balanced with time-in. Schedule time she spends only with you or Lena without the rest of the family."

"That's a good idea. Lately it's like I've been stuck in constant reprimand mode with Callie. In my defence, it seems that it needs to escalate before she is ready to listen."

"Sounds familiar," Dr. Wiseman said, as she threw her head back in laughter. "Trust me, I know—I adopted my two middle children. I can tell you it could be this way for awhile until things settle down with the adoption and Callie gets used to her new environment," she said, smiling sympathetically. "As with most cases, things will get worse before they get better. Ironically, the acting out is really a milestone we want to see because it shows trust."

"From what I observed, Callie looks to be surprisingly close to you. It was promising that she wanted you to stay in the session and found it interesting that she became significantly more guarded after I had you leave. Likely, that attachment was cultivated because of the similarities between her Mom and Dad, and you and your wife. That overlap also throws her off and is a significant source of her pushback."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand," Stef replied in confusion, suppressing a yawn. Her fatigue was creeping in from the poor night's sleep and she felt a headache looming from caffeine withdrawal. "Shouldn't that make things easier, not harder?"

"There's no easy answer. It's complicated," Dr. Wiseman replied. "For one, grief has a role. I suspect Callie hasn't had the chance to process the accident adequately, so the resemblance means that she's constantly reminded that she won't ever have a family like the exact one she had with Colleen and Donald. That's tough to accept and the grief is misplaced. She doesn't want to forget them and she doesn't trust you and Lena enough yet to understand that you aren't trying to replace her Mom and Dad. It's easier for her to try to maintain the delineation between the two families, and one way she keeps that distance is by challenging your rules and expectations for her, and telling herself she doesn't have to do what you say. It's emotionally immature but an easy way to cope. Callie perceives a threat and acts out, but it's unlikely a conscious decision."

"Got it," Stef said quietly. "That makes sense. We've had several arguments now where Callie's insolence has gotten the best of her and she insists she isn't going to listen because she's not our kid."

"Exactly. Reframe it as being a milestone! I can almost guarantee Callie didn't act up in other homes, especially if abuse was ongoing. Foster parents replacing her Mom and Dad wouldn't have been a consideration that would have existed in the realm of possibility."

"Yes, wonderful. Congratulations to us!" the cop agreed in facetiousness. She laughed sadly, her eyes once again glistening. "Lena and I had thought about some of these things, but it helps to see how all the pieces connect. Thank you."

"I'm glad. Just remember, Callie's age will help you. She's thirteen—young enough to be resilient. You'll get there."

* * *

A sense of dread settled in the pit of Callie's stomach as she wandered the corridor outside the office, in search for the washroom. She couldn't decide who she was more upset with. Stef, for sharing details of a story that wasn't in her right to share and leaving her with Dr. Wiseman, who kept up her questioning and stated the obvious. _Your Mom and Dad are no longer with you._

There had been a small part of her that wanted to believe Stef when she said the psychologist wouldn't force her to talk about things that she didn't want to, and that had been proven untrue. Actually, it had been a lie. She felt herself get worked up as the dam she had so carefully built to protect herself began to give way to the old feelings that had been unearthed. Of all the situations that could've been brought up, it had to have been the one about eating—a discussion which Callie would've much rather avoided.

Because although the last several years had been a blur, certain events had been branded into her for being pivotal in how she viewed the world and understood where her and Jude stood. The repercussions from that day Jude had accidentally raised flags in their shared therapy by mentioning they weren't getting enough to eat remained just as salient and frightening today, as they had been then.

 _She and Jude had made several mistakes today, of which the biggest one was telling the talking doctor they weren't being fed enough. After Bill said goodbye, the woman ordered them, a little too sweetly, upstairs to their room._

 _It was there that she watched Jeanine pull her little brother into standing, fully prepared to hit him with the leather belt that was in her hand. That was when Callie's second mistake happened. Without thinking, she grabbed the arm that held the weapon, causing the woman's fury to be redirected at her. Adrenaline kicked into high gear and she reflexively kicked and hit the woman in between blows. Her third mistake. And then a fourth and final one, committed after she managed to bite her hard on the arm to free herself._

 _If she had known then how things would've spiraled out of control, she wouldn't have done it._

 _Her relief was short-lived. Now, once again, she found herself desperately trying to grapple her way out of the woman's hold. Efforts to dig her socked feet against the floor proved fruitless; it was impossible to get any traction against the dark, slippery hardwood. Her panic increased exponentially as she was dragged closer to the small bathroom, each failed attempt to escape confirming what was to come._

 _"Please Jeanine. I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" she begged, hoping to placate her way out of the situation as the woman finally let go of her. It did nothing to quell her fear as the door locked with an audible click and the shower turned on at full blast, telling her that whatever was going to happen wasn't going to be good._

 _The woman held the belt up close to Callie's face. "You will be when I'm done with you!" she barked, throwing it against the tile. Without warning, she wrapped one arm tightly around the girl's torso, leaving Callie to struggle helplessly as her tights were yanked down to her knees, bringing her underwear with them. Roughly, she was forced to lie on her stomach over the edge of the soaker tub._

 _Shuddering from the cold acrylic against her bare skin, she could only hope that it would be over soon as the woman pinned her in place._

 _"I'll teach you to tell lies and to fight me."_ _She heard the benign clink as the belt_ _was picked up and folded before it was finally brought it down on her._

 _The tub edge was merciless, digging into her ribs and hip bones each time she moved. She finally understood that the reason for why the water was turned on was to keep her hands occupied and out of the way. To avoid getting in the way of the freezing cold spray, she had to brace herself against the floor of the tub. She failed, anyway; her arms betrayed her with each successive lash, leaving her sputtering for breath and shaking violently from the beating and being soaked._

 _After several misses in which the belt slammed against the bathtub side with an earsplitting crack, the hand on her back finally let up. Right away, she scrambled down and pushed herself into the corner, turning around to defend herself. However, she realized this was far from being over when she saw the woman re-wrap the leather around her fist._

 _From where she sat on the toilet lid, Jeanine leaned forward and pointed to the tub. "Get back up! Get back up there and don't you dare defy me!"_

 _Fear and panic eventually got the better of her. Curling her arms underneath herself for comfort, Callie let herself be pinned in place again as the onslaught continued, eventually forcing her cries into a wail._

 _She could only hope that the deafening roar of the water hitting the tub floor would mask the sound for Jude. Because she hated herself then for not being able to keep quiet and for scaring her brother. Because the most terrifying sound of all was the muffled shouts of her baby brother screaming_ _, "Don't hurt my sister!" over and over again as five-year-old fists pounded on the door._

 _"Fight me again and next time that ass whooping you just earned will be the least of your worries," the woman threatened, finally letting her hand off Callie's back which sent her pitching forward into the tub._

 _"And don't you even think of trying to tell anyone. There's more where you came from and no one's going to save you, honey. Not your parents, not Bill, not anyone."_

 _She remembered how cruel Jeanine's smile was as she squatted down and grabbed her roughly by her chin to face her. "Especially not your parents," she said coldly. "You know why, don't you?" she asked, though she wasn't waiting for an answer._ _"Your own mother and father drank to get away from you and your incorrigible brother."_

 _"How does it feel to know it ended up killing your own mother?"_

 _The words had cut and stayed with her all these years..._

 _"Mama," she sobbed quietly that night once she was certain Jude had fallen asleep. It was the first time in a month she had uttered that word and, it surprised her at how foreign it felt to say aloud._

 _Perhaps it had been her own way of confirming if what she knew was true. Callie waited, fighting sleep as long as she could, hoping she'd be proven wrong and her parents would come through the door any minute._

 _But when she finally awoke the next morning, she knew. Mom wasn't ever going to come back and she promised herself she would never say that word again with the hope of hearing a response. "Bye, Mama. Love you," Callie whispered, letting the hot tears trickle into the pillow._

* * *

Maybe it had been the tiny stall, the metal door slamming shut in her hurry to pee...or the running tap that echoed against the tiled walls. But she was back there.

Heart slamming against her chest, Callie found herself quickly making her way back down the narrow corridor, which only amplified the feeling of being suffocated. Nausea was setting in from shallow breaths but there was no way she could bring herself to return to the washroom. Nor was she prepared to go back inside the office. Stef had been gone fifteen minutes and would be done soon, anyway.

Desperate to settle her breathing, Callie figured the best thing to do would be to sit in the lobby where fresh air would filter in from people coming and going. But the elevator made her feel even more claustrophobic and by the time the doors released her, the threat of vomiting was closer than ever.

The memory snapped at her feet like a monster's jaws, threatening to make her a victim a second time if she dared to stop or slow down.

So she did what she was best at...

Run.


	16. The Fight-or-Flight Response

**Chapter 15: The Fight-or-Flight Response**

 _Please pick up. Please pick up._ It was all Stef could hope as she drummed her fingers on the dashboard. So far, her efforts to reach Lena at school had been unsuccessful, going only as far as voicemail, and her impatience was growing. Every minute she spent on the phone was a minute wasted not looking for Callie.

"Thank goodness," she exhaled when the call finally connected.

"Hi honey," Lena said cheerfully. "I was just about to call. How did it go?"

Hearing the hopefulness in her voice, Stef sighed at having to be the bearer of disappointing news. She couldn't help but to berate herself. All she needed to do was to take their daughter to and from the appointment and somehow she had managed to fail at that, too.

"Callie didn't try to get a hold of you, did she?"

"Hold on. Let me check." There was rustling on the other end of the line as Lena rifled through her purse contents to retrieve the phone to check the display. "No. Should she have? I have missed calls from you and a voicemail from Bill."

"Wait—Bill called? When?" Stef asked urgently.

"Nine thirty. I've been in meetings all day so missed it. Why?"

"Oh thank god," Stef breathed. If Bill had called earlier in the day she knew it was unrelated to Callie running away. They were relatively safe—for now, anyway.

"Honey, what's going on? You're really starting to worry me," Lena asked, beginning to feel unsettled by her wife's questioning.

Stef took in another deep breath as she tapped her foot restlessly on the brake, prepared to accelerate through the light though it had only just turned red. "We have a bit of a situation. It seems that Callie left the office while I was wrapping up with Gisella in the parent debrief. When I came out half an hour later she was gone."

"Wait, what? What do you mean she was gone?"

The cop cleared her throat, forgiving the rhetorical question. "Is there any way you can block the rest of your day off? I need you to go home as soon as you can, in case Callie makes her way back there on her own. Mike's on his way now to give me a hand. Hoping that between two cars we can search the surrounding area quicker…she couldn't have made it far on foot," she said, relaying the directives off matter-of-factly. In spite of her own rising panic, now was not the time to get emotional she reminded herself.

"Call my mother. Tell her to pick up the rest of the kids and to keep them for the night, just in case…" This time, Stef was unable to finish saying what she was thinking, too afraid to address the elephant in the room.

She didn't have to. Though left unspoken, Lena was very well aware that depending on who found Callie first, things had the potential to escalate very quickly. Ideally, they would be able to locate her first and bring her home where they would discipline her appropriately. They would keep her on an even shorter leash and that would be that. It was the other scenario that neither of them were able to openly admit to: law enforcement getting to Callie first and remanding her back to youth custody.

Running away was an automatic violation of the teen's probation. Although theoretically possible to plead for leniency and have her released back into their care, it wouldn't be easy to have it successfully granted for Callie. Given her history of repeatedly running away while entrenched in foster care, she had been labeled a flight risk. On top of that, there were the recent issues of truancy and her suspension from school—neither of which would be looked upon favourably.

The teen had also managed to break her probation in other ways—stealing and being in possession of marijuana—but somehow, through sheer luck, they had flown under the radar. Each time, Stef and Lena felt grateful to have been able to deal with it at home as a family, which was preferable to Bill or the Probation Officer getting involved.

Even that day Stef had searched Callie's backpack and confiscated her stash, she had never considered the behaviour as being anything other than a routine domestic matter. For Stef, her first and only duty to Callie—as with all her children—was to be a parent. She was a kid who made a poor choice, not a juvenile delinquent who deserved to be written up. So she had simply taken the items away and thrown them into a far corner of her and Lena's bedroom closet until she could go through and properly dispose of it at a later time.

The women's rationale was that they strongly believed Callie was in need of two things: the security of a stable home and unconditional love. Not to be back in the clutches of systems that had been responsible for so much of her and Jude's trauma in the first place. They had been certain of it from day one. It had been the reason why they had petitioned for adoption so quickly—they felt that the kids, being so young and having gone through so much adversity, deserved a fighting chance.

However, as Callie's behaviour deteriorated and with probation to contend with, the pressure to try to keep Callie on the straight and narrow had become overwhelming. It felt like they had barely gotten by this past month.

It was Lena who finally broke the silence, rescuing the both of them from their thoughts. "I'll hold off on returning Bill's call until all of this gets sorted."

* * *

As much as Callie was relieved to have finally managed to calm herself down, that feeling was being gradually pushed away in favour of increasing dread. Her feet ached and she was hungry, given the only thing she had had all day was an Eggo waffle and some juice. Judging by how busy the roads were as she had aimlessly wandered, she guessed it would be late afternoon at least, possibly after school. By now, Lena would have made it home, Jude close behind setting his homework on the counter, and the remainder of the kids floating between respective after school activities.

Tears began to prick the girl's eyes and nose as she realized she had no idea where she was and that the only reasonable option she had would be to retrace her steps until she got back to the office or until she found a store that would let her use a phone to call Stef or Lena. She didn't have any money with her to catch a bus or to use a payphone. Not that either of those were an option; it was the shipyard where there was not a person or shop in sight.

But at the same time, Callie didn't want to face them. Her stomach twisted as she thought bitterly of everything that had happened in the past week…how she had been suspended and subsequently how much trouble she had gotten in with Stef and Lena for fighting with them.

 _How could she have messed up again?_ It was as if she had blinders on, never seeing the bad decisions for what they were, the repercussions conveniently invisible in her peripheral vision. Until, that is, it was too late and she was knee-deep in the quagmire—with no plausible way to undo her steps and avoid the consequences.

She couldn't help but to ruminate on her deepest fears about how much Stef and Lena would tolerate before getting fed up and stopping their adoption. How today could very well be the last straw and she could be packing her and Jude's stuff under their watch to make sure they wouldn't take anything that didn't belong to them. The telltale look of confusion and disappointment that would appear without fail on Jude's face as he accepted they would have to start over again.

* * *

"Callie!" A man's voice shouting her name snapped the teen out of her thoughts as she whipped around to figure out who it was. "Callie!" Feeling a heavy hand clamp down on her shoulder, she recoiled before recognizing the person standing before her.

After steadying the girl by the shoulders, Mike took a step back and held up his palms to show he wasn't a threat. The cop did a quick visual scan for any obvious markings or any indications something was off and was immediately thankful when there were none he could make out.

"It's just me, Cal. Didn't mean to scare you," he spoke calmly, well aware that things could get tricky, fast.

Finding the youth had only been half the job—he still needed to somehow get her to come with him so he could bring her home. Callie hadn't had the best interactions with law enforcement and here he was—in uniform, badge on, gun and taser in holster, and with very limited experience working with young people. Precisely the reason why his ex-wife would routinely be the one to go after the youth they encountered on the job. Stef had a way with them: firm and commanding when she needed to be, but always apologetic for what they needed to do, which was typically to arrest them or to remove them from their home.

It wasn't looking good. The way Callie's eyes darted to scan her surroundings, looking for a possible escape route, worried him. At this point, Mike knew that his best option was to keep talking. "Stef's been looking all over for you. She and Lena are worried sick and just want to know that you're okay. We all do," he said, keeping his voice as steady and soft as possible. "I bet they'd really like hearing from you. Maybe you could page Stef in the car while I give you a lift back to the building. She should still be in the area so you can ride home with her."

"It's okay. I can walk back myself," she stammered, so quiet he could barely make out the words. Callie took a step back with her left foot, angling it as if to turn around and sprint when she froze, looking past him. "Never mind…Stef's here. I see her car now."

In the split second Mike lost focus, Callie took off like a bolt. Deep down, she knew she wouldn't be able to outrun him but she also didn't feel at all ready to go home. In fact, she was certain of it.

 _Shit._ All that was running in his head was that if he lost Callie now, Stef would have his neck. It didn't take long before he caught up to her; Callie had run into a dead end on the dock and was frantically looking for a way out that didn't involve jumping into the water.

"I—I don't want to go back, Mike! Please don't make me go back!"

"Callie you don't mean that," he said sympathetically. "And even if you do, you know I gotta bring you home."

"Listen, I'm not going to arrest you. You're not in any trouble with me, if that makes you feel any better," the cop tried to persuade as he slowly walked towards her. "But I need you to come with me. I gotta get you home. C'mon now."

Making more of a statement rather than a request, Mike quickly placed one hand on her arm and the other on her waist. "I'm going to walk you, okay?" He didn't want that to happen again and didn't trust that Callie would cooperate especially given what she had just tried to pull.

This time, Callie was surprised to feel relief and acceptance as the decision was made for her. Legs like lead, she complied as Mike escorted her toward the cruiser. "Easy, watch your head there," he instructed, holding open the back door for her. Briefly, he had considered offering the front passenger seat but decided against it; he didn't have a way to lock that side and couldn't afford her running while stopped at a light. He would keep the window in the divider between the front and back seats open instead.

"C'mon kid, let's get you home."

* * *

Anxious and coming off the adrenaline from running around looking for her daughter, Stef was barely able to get her words out. "Mike just called," she reported. "Callie's with him and he's going to drive straight home. I'll meet you there."

A wave of relief washed over Lena. She too had been an absolute stress case over the last few hours ever since her wife had called and she had tried to take her mind off the news that Callie had gone missing by doing housework. But ultimately, she kept ending up looking out the window and up the block, hoping that any minute the teen would round the corner and come through the front door.

"Oh thank goodness. Where was she? Is she okay?"

"He picked her up about a half hour drive from the office. A lot further than we thought she would go on foot. Either Callie hopped on a bus or ran for quite a distance. Said she looks fine, no injuries that he could see or anything. Apparently our darling girl took him on a bit of a sprint," Stef chuckled sadly.

For now, the woman thought it appropriate to omit the part of the teen's exact whereabouts. Mostly because she was too afraid to acknowledge the thirteen-year-old had been likely wandering around alone in an industrial part of town for several hours.

"Wonder what Callie's thinking. I'm just so glad Mike found her."

"Me too, baby. Me too," the cop said breathlessly. "We're going to have to keep a really close eye on her, Lena. This cannot happen again. Especially if each session wraps up with a parent debrief, I'll need you or my Mom to come to the appointments so there's someone with Callie during that time. Assuming that we're even going to be able to get her to go back," she said in defeat.

"It's all my fault," she said before her wife could respond. "I—I let her down, Lena. She dragged her feet all morning and begged me not to go and I wouldn't budge. When it was time for me to leave the room for her one-on-one, she begged me not to go. She was not happy at all about it and—," Stef looked up, sucking in a breath as she blinked back tears. "—and honestly, Lena, I just upped and left without asking for accommodations. Told Callie she was doing fine and that I'd be right outside. Gisella—Dr. Wiseman was really good with her during the assessment and I figured it would be okay."

"Honey, it's not your fault—" her wife began to defend.

Stef cut her off. "You're not listening. I had a role in this," she insisted. "When it was time to switch, Callie came out into the waiting room and seemed…not upset, but pretty aloof. Her walls were up. I did ask her if she was okay but you know how it is with her—"

"Let me guess. She was 'fine'?"

"I should've questioned her. I should've _known_ , Lena. My gut was telling me something was off…baby girl is an open book." The cop's voice broke as she struggled to acknowledge her culpability in the situation, remembering how maternal instinct immediately told her Callie had run away when she wasn't in the waiting room. She knew even before she went through the motions of checking the back offices, washroom, building lobby, and parking lot. Searching every possible place the girl could've been, her heart sank as she imagined the sheer panic, abandonment, and disappointment she felt must have been the same feelings evoked in Callie when she asked for her to stay and failed. Not once, but twice that day.

She recalled their last conversation, when something about the flat, emotionless tone coming from the teen unsettled her.

 _"You doing okay? Almost done?"_

 _"Oh. Yeah. It's your turn. Gonna go to the bathroom," Callie said, not bothering to stop and avoiding eye contact as she walked past where the cop was sitting._

 _She put the magazine aside, doubting the teen's sincerity and concerned by how withdrawn the girl seemed. "Okay, love. It's down the hall. You just have to walk past the elevators and it'll be to your left."_

 _"Kay."_

 _"You want to wait for me in the car, honey? You can have my phone and listen to some music," she offered, as Callie continued to keep her eyes averted. Things must have gotten hard and she hoped the teen was alright. It wouldn't be too long now until they finished, she told herself. "Listen, if you promise not to drive off or kill my battery I'll give you the keys so you'll have the radio."_

 _"It's fine," Callie said, looking up in surprise before her expression returned to being blank. "I'll wait for you here."_

* * *

"Don't do this to yourself, honey," her wife interrupted, pulling her back to the present. "You may have suspected she wasn't feeling a hundred percent after therapy but there's no way you could've known she would take off the way she did. You were following the directions you were given. Honestly I would have done the same had it been me. You can't shoulder the responsibility for what happened," Lena emphasized, knowing how hard her wife was taking things.

"Come home, Stef. We'll figure all of this out. Okay? Drive safely. I love you."

"Love you too, babe. See you soon."

* * *

 **Author Note:**

Any thoughts on why Callie doesn't want to go home?


	17. The Best Laid Plans

**Author Note:** Thank you for all the supportive reviews and messages. I'm thrilled about the positive response. If you're outside of the fandom, welcome-I've discovered a whole new world of fanfic because of ya'll. Wonderful stuff.

I had lots of fun writing this chapter. Enjoy... ~b

* * *

 _Dial-a-dope operation: when a drug dealer secures a phone number and advertises services via word of mouth, business card, etc. Customers text or call the number, using a predetermined code to verify their identity and to place their order. They arrange a time and place to meet in that medium._

* * *

 **Chapter 16:** **The Best Laid Plans**

Mike cleared his throat nervously as he heard Callie sniffling through the open plexiglass window that separated the front seats from the back. It was all he could think of to do to relieve some of Callie's immediate stress, which he knew was in part to being made to sit back there.

Having come from a traditional family where his father and uncle both worked law enforcement, Mike and his brothers had been taught not to cry. It had been a hard cycle to break even with his own son—whenever Brandon got hurt as a kid, the duty of comforting him almost always fell on his ex-wife by virtue that she was better at it. So, apart from passing some napkins he had found in the glove compartment to the reluctant youth when he saw her wiping her face and nose with the back of her hand in the rearview, he was at a loss.

As with most things Stef did, adding Callie and Jude to the family she and Lena had built for themselves had grown on him. At the beginning, he had been selfishly focused on his son. How _Brandon_ would feel about two more siblings. How _Brandon_ would adjust. Almost immediately, he had realized how unfounded his concerns had been when he saw how all the siblings took to each other. Now? He wanted to see this arrangement succeed.

No stranger to difficult life circumstances and transitions, Mike felt for Callie; he'd be the first to admit how damn hard it was to adjust to routine when chaos had been the status quo. With Stef being his work partner, he knew of the recent difficulties the girl had been having. At the same time, he was privileged to have the perspective of an outsider. In the months since the kids had joined the family, they had become less like quiet tenants walking around on eggshells to avoid being served notices of eviction. A little louder and less fearful, they were starting to resemble the rest of the kids. And though Stef ran a tight ship, it seemed that her orderly manner of getting things done and heavy-handedness had ultimately been for the better. Callie especially had become fairly close with her and was, for the most part, lightyears ahead of where she'd started out at.

Figuring Callie must be starving and not wanting to be completely useless, he took a detour at a drive thru where he promptly ordered several cheeseburgers and extra sides. Lena would be upset about the junk food but after hearing the girl's stomach rumble, Mike realized that she probably hadn't eaten for several hours.

Finding an empty parking lot, he decided to climb in back so they could eat together. The molded plastic bucket seats hurt his knees and there was barely enough space, but he hated that he was potentially re-traumatizing the teen by containing her and wanted to do his part to normalize the situation. Curling one leg under him to face Callie, the both of them left a mess of salt grains, crumbs, and greasy fingerprints. He could only hope that no one would radio in right now or worse, drive by, as he had no idea how he'd explain this. However, in spite of the stress, it had been worth it to see her tuck into her food, barely stopping to wash it down with the pop.

"So tell me, who has the bigger temper at home, Stef or Lena?" The question caused the thirteen-year-old to finally crack a smile in between fistfuls of shoestring fries.

Cautiously, Callie ventured a reply. "Stef…but Lena if it's anything to do with school. That's her thing."

"I knew it. Nothing's changed. Trust me, I'm all too familiar with both of those women's wrath! You don't want to be messing with them," Mike quipped, laughing loudly until he noticed Callie stop mid-chew and look down into her lap.

"They're gonna be so mad," she whispered. "I just keep messing up."

"Mad? Yeah, maybe," he agreed, wanting to be honest. "But probably only because you scared them half to death when they didn't know where you'd gone off to. That's the only reason."

"They're just gonna be happy to have you back. They love you a ton, Callie Cat," he said, referencing his own nickname for the kid who he had slowly grown fond of over the past few months. "You know," he added, "Stef never shuts up about you. She's so happy you and your bro joined the family and she's absolutely stoked about the adoption."

A few minutes went by before he figured out what he wanted to say to help take some of the pressure off the situation. "You know, I didn't always like Lena and Stef being together," he admitted as Callie stared at him in incredulity. "I was angry at the both of them for a long time."

He laughed softly at Callie's bewilderment. "True story."

The girl furrowed her brow as she thought of what she knew of them, all of whom seemed to get along. She hadn't ever considered that things could've entirely different. There was the occasional fight, mostly over stuff about Brandon, but they were far and few in between and she never thought twice about what she would overhear. The girl understood that Mike and Stef used to be married and Mike was Brandon's Dad, so there were always three adults who needed to hash things until everyone was on the same page. But to the rest of the kids, Callie got the impression that he was the weird Uncle type who would always drop by the house with take out or let them come over to his apartment for pizza or Chinese to give Stef and Lena a break.

"How come?"

"Geez you don't hold back do you?" he teased, trying to buy time to figure out how much he wanted to disclose without overstepping Stef and Lena's boundaries. Nevertheless, this was his ex's kid and essentially his son's new sibling and he wanted to show Callie that she wasn't alone. That she had people rooting for her and that they formed part of a family who wanted her very much and were waiting with open arms if and when she was ready.

"To be honest it was kinda a gong show. I blamed Lena, for a long time, for coming along and changing everything. She and Stef getting together meant all the hope I had that we'd be getting back together was snuffed out."

He sighed, remembering his own hurt feelings as he explained. "B was suddenly off to a new school… _Lena's_ school, and he had a whole new routine I was not a part of. And that was hard. It was hard for B and it was hard for the three of us."

"We were in this strange in-between stage, trying to create two stable homes for him when it felt that things were everything but stable. Stef and I were fighting over how often I could see him. I, uh—I had a drinking problem then and Stef told me she would fight for sole custody with no visitation so I was forced into therapy and rehab as part of retaining custody and I absolutely hated it. Brandon was fighting with Lena because he blamed her for Stef and I breaking up, and he fought with me for being preoccupied with drinking. I fought with Lena because I thought her parenting was so hokey and quite frankly, I felt she didn't have the right to a parent role. We all stepped on each other's toes and it was a huge mess. Things were pretty nasty for awhile, Callie."

"Oh."

There was a pause as she struggled with getting the plastic film off the sweet and sour sauce container. "How come you're telling me all this?"

"Well, ain't it kinda like that for you guys right now? You and Jude and Stef and Lena, I mean?" he said, smiling as Callie nodded meekly at the suggestion.

"You just gotta keep in mind that as time went on we started to fight less and less with each other. We realized that we had spent so much time trying to set up two camps: Me and B against Stef and Lena and B. We ended up forgetting the most important one. B and three parents working together. But none of us could see this while we were in the thick of it—we just had to slog through the mess so we could grow and be better people for it."

"So I think what you might want to take away from all this is, all the fighting that's happening is happening because everything's new and everyone's just trying to work their way through it. You're figuring them out, they're figuring you out. And…that's hard, Callie. Because it's much easier to keep doing what you're used to doing, even if it isn't working, because it's what you are familiar with. There's a certain comfort in that. Because otherwise you need to admit that things aren't working and that gets even messier. Trying to learn your way around a new family is not easy. It's a ton of work."

"Stef and Lena are not easy," he said, winking. "But I gotta tell you…it's worth it. It's just going to get better from here."

* * *

After worrying about Callie's whereabouts all day, it took all of Stef and Lena's self-control to avoid bursting out of the front door when the cruiser finally backed into their driveway. Although they were anxious to see her and to usher her inside, both women thought it'd be prudent to give Callie space and the opportunity to come into the home out of her own volition.

It had been well over an hour since they received news that Mike was en route with the teen, giving them time to talk about the events of the day and to determine the most appropriate course of action. Stef updated Lena on as many of the recommendations she could remember from her time with Dr. Wiseman, as well as some of what had been revealed in Callie's assessment.

Despite their frustration, they were mostly relieved. Given the rough start that morning and with Stef feeling responsible for how the rest of the day had transpired, the women decided they would make sure the teen had the opportunity to explain her actions. They would discuss any consequences later. After speaking with Dr. Wiseman, they decided to let Callie choose if she would like to continue attending. The psychologist had been supportive of this plan and indicated that, for the most part, Callie had participated adequately and that the level of resistance she saw displayed was typical for a first session.

* * *

"This oughta be good," Stef said, elbowing Lena in the arm as they watched Mike waltz around the car and open the back door. The cop couldn't help but to feel hurt when she saw Callie shake her head resolutely at him. _Did Callie really not want to come home?_ Luckily, the entertaining scene unfolding in their driveway precluded her from ruminating on her insecurities.

Not knowing what to make of Callie's refusal, Mike ran both hands over his face and through his hair before stooping into the passenger seat to try again. This time, the girl's arm extended, holding out the fast food paper bags. Shaking his head in defeat, Mike accepted them and walked over to the garbage bins at the side of the home. Though both women were mortified by how Callie had just behaved, something about the interaction was endearing—the wariness with which she had regarded him just months ago having faded enough that she was comfortable challenging him.

Confidence deflated, he made his way up the porch steps. "I give up. She's all your's," he said, as he handed Lena a square purple and white paper container. "There's at least half the chicken nuggets in there still for her snack."

Lena raised her eyebrows in disapproval as she scrutinized its contents. "This is not a snack," she sighed, griping even in her amusement over Mike's plight.

"It is when you compare it to the two junior cheese, apple pie, and fries she hoovered. Man, your kid can eat…you obviously don't feed her!" the cop shot back in jest. Trying to lift the somber mood, he continued to tease Stef and Lena, causing them to finally crack up. "So which one of you do I make the invoice out to?"

As seriousness set in again, Mike turned to his ex-wife. "So do we have a game plan? In case Roberts asks?"

With the two of them ironing out the logistics of how to explain Mike's afternoon patrol taking an unexpected detour, Lena took her cue to leave. She knew that she would need to speak with Callie first if there was any chance at all of preventing a blowup. Given that she didn't have the weight of the entire day behind her, it was much easier for her to put her frustrations aside compared to Stef, whose ability to be patient sounded like it had been exhausted.

"I'd better go talk to Callie before you swoop in with your lecturing," she suggested to her wife, as Stef looked to her in surprise, a little more than relieved her more rational half was stepping up.

* * *

Lena quietly tapped against the window to get Callie's attention before pulling the door open so she wouldn't startle her.

The teen looked up, smiling faintly at the woman. "Hi," she said softly, dreading the conversation that was to come.

"Honey. _Hi._ " Wanting to pose as little threat as possible, Lena immediately dropped into a crouch by the backseat so she wouldn't tower over the girl and clasped Callie's hands in her own.

"I am so, so glad you're home," she emphasized, sighing in relief as she heard herself say the words out loud. "We were worried sick about you."

Wondering if Lena might be expecting some sort of explanation, Callie looked down. She really had no idea what to say to her foster mom but had a sinking feeling that whatever she came up with would unlikely be good enough, anyway.

"Sorry, Lena," she whispered, her voice filled with remorse. "I—I didn't mean to go so far," she tried to offer.

"It's alright honey, let's not worry about any of this right now," Lena soothed. Knowing her daughter and knowing she had bolted from Mike, she surmised Callie was worried about being in trouble. Therefore, she wanted to deflect her daughter's focus from any potential consequences for the time being, as an altercation would definitely not help the goal of having the teen safe inside the confines of their home. There was no reason to get into any of that now.

"There will be plenty of time to talk about all of this later on but right now Mom and I are just happy you're home. We love you so much."

"Come on, let's go inside, it's getting late. Grandma ordered us Chinese food and I bet she remembered some of the dishes you like," the woman continued to cajole.

Lena's heart fell at how vulnerable and desolate the girl sounded when she spoke up. "I can't," Callie insisted, having a great deal of difficulty maintaining her gaze with the woman. Though her words were stubborn, fear and contrition were etched onto her young face. "I just…I'm not ready."

"How come?" Lena pressed gently. "Did something happen with Gisella?"

Both the miserable-sounding reply, as well as the shrug that accompanied it, were automatic.

" _No._ Nothing…"

The woman sighed over the fact that the conversation was not going quite the way she wanted it to. Her own patience was beginning to be tested and she wondered just how much leeway to give the teen, whose brow was now knitted into an obstinate frown.

* * *

"I had to put her in back. There isn't any way to engage the locks in the front," Mike explained apologetically as he and Stef stood on the porch. Far enough from the cruiser so they could talk without running the risk of the girl overhearing them and to give Lena enough space to work with Callie. But close enough to monitor the situation and be ready to respond in the event she tried to run again.

"No worries, I would've done the same. Sorry she gave you a hard time."

"It's all good. I'm just glad she found herself in a dead end so I didn't have to tackle her. On duty cop tackling a minor in breach of her parole by going MIA? That shit would go sideways so fast. It'd be an automatic near-miss incident report."

"Me too." Stef took a deep breath. "So, the plan?" She hated to ask but they hadn't had a chance to discuss what they would exactly do once they had located the teen.

Checking his watch, Mike replied, "Well first thing's first. I gotta make sure I return the cruiser before too long, otherwise Roberts will ask questions. I'll document my patrol this afternoon as routine surveillance of an area following a report of suspicious activity but I'm not going to submit a formal incident report. Otherwise it'll get really tricky having to rationalize why I didn't bring Callie into the station and it will flag her record."

"Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate this." Stef's voice faltered as she looked down. She so badly wanted to understand why the girl had been determined to get away. "Callie ran from you?"

"Yeah. I had a helluva time just catching up with her…she's swift. Honestly I think I just spooked her when I first found her," he said, omitting the part where he was outsmarted by a kid. "She was surprised when I told her I wasn't going to arrest her. After that little adrenaline spike, she crashed after we stopped for food. Fell asleep for about half hour."

"Did she say anything?"

Mike exhaled loudly. No way would he divulge what the girl had actually said, which he assumed was a reference to not wanting to return home. If anything, it was to spare Stef's feelings. But he almost didn't have to—he could see just how hurt she was knowing Callie had tried to run a second time.

"She's just a teenager afraid of the shit she's in."

"As she should be," Stef affirmed.

"Try not to be too harsh on her. Don't you remember us running away from home when we were fourteen?" Mike reminded, wanting to stick up for the girl. "We were there once."

"Hey," he began after things went silent between them again. "I—uh. I guess I want to apologize for being such an ass about you and Lena taking in Callie and Jude."

The apology caught the woman by surprise; she hadn't ever expected to hear those words from Mike of all people. Of her and her wife's coworkers and extended family, he had by far been the most outspoken critic of adding the siblings into the mix permanently. Figuring it stemmed from his worries over how his son would react, both she and Lena had always tried to remain patient. Still, he always managed to piss her off to no end with his I-told-you-so's whenever she came in feeling rattled and rundown from a poor night's sleep or having to deal with Callie, at times losing work time.

"Callie's a tough nut to crack and I know you and Lena have been having a bit of a hard time with her recently," he said.

"But hey, for what it's worth, she looks like she's doing much better than when she first got out of custody—Jude too. Remember how skittish they both were that first time I met them at the house? They're lucky to have you and Lena—you're both doing a great job."

Stef chuckled sadly, adopting a wide stance and putting her hands in her pockets as she recalled the moment Mike had referred to. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked up at the darkening sky, quickly blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. It had been the first time she and Lena appreciated how deeply ingrained the siblings' fear of authority figures were. And though Mike was bumbling at the best of times, she remembered how Jude had frozen and refused to say hello, instead cowering and standing almost directly behind Callie.

"Took you awhile to realize there was even another kid there with Jude refusing to come out from behind Callie, ha!" she joked halfheartedly. "True, they've both come a long way—and I get that, I really do. But honestly, it's just hard to see it when you're knee deep in the trenches you know what I mean?"

"I bet."

She paused, struggling to find the right words. "Thanks. For everything you did today for us and for going out of your way to help with Callie and to bring her home. You didn't have to do that."

"Sure I did. Hey it's no problem. Look, she's a good kid. She just got the short end of the stick, going in and out of homes like that. It's a damn shame. That whole six months in youth detention was unfortunate as well as the probation they tacked on. There's no way she planned what they said she did."

"It's complete bullshit. She was _twelve,_ Mike, trying to defend herself. The seventeen-year-old in the foster home was cornering her into doing drug runs, giving her pocket money and threatening to beat her up at school if she didn't. Apparently, because she had a history of recruiting younger kids, her own Case Worker strongly recommended an individual placement where the foster parents would be able to provide one-on-one supervision. But that documentation got lost so Bill never saw it when he placed Callie and Jude into the same home. Of course, the foster parents were aware but they kept quiet since they wanted two more."

"Callie was an easy target," Stef continued. "The middle school was on the same campus as the high school, so the older girl was able to keep an eye on her to make sure she was doing what she was told. The customers were all high school students."

Mike sighed, shaking his head. "I gotta give it to her. Unfortunately-dial-a-dope operations in youth are not unheard of but that's pretty extensive."

"I'm with you there. Sophisticated for a seventeen-year-old for sure but Callie? This is the kid who needs Lena or I to help organize her binder on a weekly basis because she can't remember to put handouts under the right tabs and then gets frustrated and begins to shove papers every which way into the front and back pockets."

"It didn't help that the court-appointed lawyer assigned to the case sucked. In the ruling the judge said Callie's participation demonstrated a level of sophistication in her planning that far outpaced her years," Stef quoted sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "He felt that was concerning."

" _Jesus,_ c'mon! So what finally got them arrested?"

"Oh. The older girl had been taking one of the foster parent's car to and from school without their knowledge, taking Callie and Jude with her," she described, cringing at the thought of Jude riding without a booster, given he was so slight he still required one now.

"They were at the park when some teens showed up in a group. Unhappy customers. The older girl left the car to fight but when things spiralled out of control, Callie tried to drive away."

"Grand theft auto." Mike replied, recalling the charges off the top of his head.

"Yeah. Automatically," Stef nodded sadly. "Because Callie was in the driver's seat, the car was running, and the cops who were first on scene saw the car move, it was a no brainer for them. In their search they uncovered the burner phone the girls were using for dealing and a small amount of marijuana in the glove box. So possession and trafficking, too."

"Lemme guess. Callie didn't talk?"

"She stayed quiet, probably because she didn't want to make enemies. Older girl admitted what she had done a month later but the judge refused to amend the ruling," Stef ranted through gritted teeth. It upset her to this day to talk about it and even more so now that Dr. Wiseman had discussed how crucial the transition to adolescence was. Callie needed support more than ever at that point in her life; instead she had been manipulated and the legal system had made an example out of her.

She shook her head in the silence that followed. "I thought I was going to lose my shit today, seriously. That girl is going to shave a good five years off my life if this is any indication of what her teenage years are going to be like," she stated emphatically.

"At least you're not alone. She's shortening Lena's as we speak," Mike pointed out as Stef groaned in annoyance.

Callie's arms were crossed and she had just pulled away dramatically from Lena, shaking her head in a show of defiance. Returning the car on time was going to be harder than they thought.

* * *

 **Author Note:**

Will Stef be able to keep it together and go with her and Lena's original plan?


	18. Fury, Evoked

**Chapter 17: Fury, Evoked**

Callie's stomach dropped as she recognized the distinct, purposeful steps against the pavement that unmistakably belonged to Stef. Wiping her clammy hands against her jeans, she braced herself for the altercation that would soon ensue. While Callie hadn't run away since coming to live with Stef and Lena, she was perceptive enough to understand that the cop would be livid. In no uncertain terms, she was screwed.

* * *

"I know for a fact that Mom is happy to have you home, too," the cop overheard Lena, continuing her efforts to persuade Callie out of the cruiser. "She would love to see you, honey."

"Well I don't want to talk to her," Callie muttered, before turning her head away.

As the petulant response made its way back to where she was standing, Stef felt her blood pressure rise. Her initial relief that the situation had ended as favourably as it could have was fading quickly with the realization that there was still a ways to go before she could even start thinking that things were all right. They were currently nowhere near being all right.

When she had first learned Callie had run from Mike, she had sympathized, understanding that the teen must have been upset to not have wanted to come home. But seeing how Callie had behaved with both Mike and Lena, she couldn't help but to become frustrated over what she saw as dogged attempts to avoid facing the consequences of her actions. Repeated warnings and being consistent in their approach hadn't dissuaded the girl from continuing to make choices with reckless abandon. However, as soon as Callie found herself knee deep in the quagmire, she would stall, avoid, and fight—grasping at straws to get out being punished. It was an entirely aggravating and exhausting process that had, for the past week, seemed to be on an infinite loop.

Not wanting to stoke the flames, Lena ignored the comment and instead looked to her wife for guidance. However, Stef only responded by turning both her palms out at her side. "What do you want me to do?" she mouthed as she slowly shook her head in exasperation.

The cop immediately felt guilty for how she responded when Lena's face fell. At the same time, she couldn't help her resentment. Whenever Lena failed to make progress with Callie by taking a more patient, gentle direction, she was the one tasked with getting the teen to cooperate and to rein in the behaviour.

Plus, she hadn't been trying to be rude. Other than her and Mike physically removing the girl from the car, which was not an acceptable idea to her, she genuinely didn't know what to do. The only thing Stef was certain about was the very limited time they had before Mike's shift ended and the cruiser was due back at the precinct. Before Roberts would give the third degree about the unplanned overtime and they would have to come up with another plausible explanation.

It was one of those situations where telling the truth was an option but would be problematic. Given that they were already contending with a school suspension and truancy, yet another citation for running away would automatically add to her record and alert both her Parole Officer and Bill. Stef cringed inwardly as she imagined the hell that would break loose if there was a fight between the Department of Social Services and the Department of Corrections over whether Callie should be remanded into custody.

If that happened, Bill had vowed to fight on her and Lena's behalf to see the adoption through. The three of them were always in agreement that the only argument for juvie was based on black and white policies—not those that accounted for Callie's successes in her current environment and what would be in her best interest to help her thrive, rather than merely focus on survival.

* * *

Finally, Lena motioned for Stef to switch places with her—but not without directing a pointed glare her way. It was a look that the cop had become especially well-acquainted with in their co-parenting relationship—the one that warned that _now was not the time to be right, so zip it._ Noting the time again, Stef couldn't agree more. She definitely had her work cut out and knew she would need to rely on her crisis intervention skills more than ever to prevent things from escalating so she and Mike could get done what they needed: to convince the teen to leave the car so that it could be returned. Unfortunately, those very skills tended to go missing when she needed them the most, which was usually with her children.

Stef opened the door as wide as it would go and crouched by the hinge. From this position, she was able to facilitate some eye contact while keeping a good enough distance so she wouldn't come across as threatening. She had suspected from what she had overheard and what Mike had said that Callie was afraid of her reaction.

Allowing silence to settle in between them, she observed her daughter, who was slouched and chewing on the straw of her drink container in nervous agitation.

"I am so glad you're home. I missed you," Stef said, keeping her tone soft. If she had learned anything these last few months of having Callie and Jude, it was that dropping her volume was almost just as effective as raising her voice in making sure they focused on what was being said. This was one thing she really needed Callie to hear. That no matter what happened, she still loved and wanted her.

"Don't you doubt that even for a second," Stef emphasized as soon as she saw the dubiousness flicker across the teen's face.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Unsure of what she could say that would be acceptable in that moment, Callie shrugged a typical non-response and took a shuddering breath as she withdrew her gaze.

Recognizing that she was just going to end up spinning her wheels and wouldn't be getting anywhere anytime soon, the woman reached out to squeeze the girl's upper arm in an attempt to draw her attention back to the present. "It's alright," she retracted, "We don't have to talk right now if you don't want to."

"The most important thing is that you're okay."

Concern turned to confusion as she saw Callie's crestfallen demeanour do a one-eighty, darkening into a sulky frown. Realizing she had somehow triggered the teen and not wanting a fight to derail her and Mike's plans, the cop quickly backtracked.

"Hey. Hey…" Stef whispered, trying to keep her own panic at the urgency of the situation at bay. "Chin up. Everything is going to be okay." It was obviously not the right thing to say either, she learned, when Callie rolled her eyes and she caught a better glimpse of the quiet fury within the girl.

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night," Callie smart-mouthed under her breath. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Stef's eyes widen in surprise. Though clever enough to know she was already in deep trouble with her foster moms and battling her own fear of getting into more, she was furious. How many times had the cop dismissed her that day alone, saying that everything would be okay?

 _Okay_ was not how she would describe how therapy had unfolded.

 _Okay_ was not at all how she felt.

Things were not _okay_ and she was finding it hard to believe how they would ever be.

Stef's muscles tensed, physiologically bracing her for the entire situation to implode as she issued the mild reproof and raised her eyebrow slightly as a warning. "Not acceptable, love. You know that."

"Come on. It's time to come inside," Stef directed, hoping to deflect from the brewing conflict. She couldn't help but feel hurt as Callie stiffened under her reach as she went to undo the seatbelt. But it was when she tried to maneuver the girl's arm out of the shoulder harness that her efforts derailed; wrenching her arm away, she rotated her body to challenge the cop even as she leaned back into the centre of the back row.

"Callie. Please, do not do this right now," the cop pleaded. She dropped her voice into as placating a tone she could manage given her increasing frustration with a situation she perceived to be quickly slipping out of her control. The pressure of trying to get Callie inside of the house was overwhelming and all she could think of was how all their efforts would be for nothing if Mike was late bringing the car back.

"The worst is already over, love. The hardest part was coming home and you've already done that."

Noticing the all-too familiar look of obstinacy flit across her young daughter's face, she just knew. Things were precarious. A fight was almost guaranteed at this point.

"Callie…" she uttered cautiously, hoping it'd be enough of a warning to dissuade her from continuing to be uncooperative. For she, too, was barely holding it together and didn't know how much more she could take.

"Um, _no._ That was not the hardest part," she retorted. "The hardest part was asking you not to see Dr. Wiseman and you made me anyway. You said she wouldn't make me talk about stuff I didn't want to and you made me talk about it anyways!" Callie's voice wavered as she remembered how Stef had forced the truth on one of the questions. How it had given the doctor an opening and culminated in a reminder that her parents no longer existed.

"You left me alone in there with her," the girl said bitterly, glowering at Stef as each word spoken left her more infuriated than the last. She no longer cared she was digging herself deeper—that there would be hell to pay for it, and that she was disappointing Stef and Lena even more by doing so.

"Even though I asked—no—begged you not to! You screwed me over again and again!"

It was confirmation that Callie was upset at not having her around at a time she needed someone there the most. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That was not my intention at all," she apologized in a soothing tone. "I was only trying to help."

"You helped HER!" the girl shouted, furiously blinking back the hot tears that were threatening to fall. The hand with which she was holding the drink container had begun to clench, causing it to crease. "Not ME! HER!"

Although Stef was taken aback by the pure fury being directed at her, Callie's quivering lower lip was indication of just how hurt and miserable she was. She wished she could climb into the car—either to wrap the teen into a hug to provide some comfort, or to drag her out so she could focus on Callie fully without her anxieties over the looming what-if's.

"I know, love. I overstepped. I was wrong and I'm sorry," she said, hoping the conciliatory gesture would be enough to defuse some of the anger.

"There's a lot to sort out, I know, and I promise—there will be plenty of time for us to discuss all of this. I promise you that we will have a long talk about everything," Stef said, continuing her efforts to calm the teen. Forcing herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath, she reiterated, "But we are not going to do this out here."

"Why not?" Callie shot back as she crossed her arms in a huff.

As her patience began to fray, Stef pinched the bridge of her nose. " _Callie,_ " she said a little more firmly, finding it difficult to keep her voice down any longer. "This is not up for discussion. Please watch your attitude and make a good choice that I know you are capable of."

"The only thing that is going to happen right now is you heading straight to your room to calm down. Then we're going to sit down to have the dinner that Grandma so kindly ordered for us and have a chat," Stef continued sternly as the teen fumed.

Callie absolutely resented the fact that talking always had to be on Stef's terms, regardless of whether she was ready or if she wanted to. It was exactly what had happened with Dr. Wiseman. Although she knew better than to lie, she hadn't meant any maliciousness by it—she had been trying to answer the questions in a way that would let her off the hook so she wouldn't have to talk about things she didn't want to. She could've held her own but wanted Stef there for support. Instead, the woman had interfered in her usual controlling manner and demanded the truth from her.

But now that Callie was ready to give her a piece of her mind, the cop didn't want to talk because it wasn't convenient for _her_. It was infuriating, and she found her aggravation only escalating as she struggled to find the words to speak her feelings. On top of that, the grogginess and heartburn weren't helping; her heart was pounding a mile a minute as it always did when she napped from unintentionally falling asleep in the ride home and the fast food she had binged on sat high in her best.

The combination of feelings made her want to scream at and break everything in her vicinity.

"Well it's gonna be a lot of you and Lena just talking to yourself then," she mumbled under her breath.

 _"Love!_ Stop…"

"—No! You stop! Stop telling me what to do! You don't just get to boss me around when you don't even listen to me!"

"Okay, sweetheart. You need to calm down. You're only getting worked up," Stef warned in a way that left little room for negotiation.

"I am listening but I will only tell you one more time that we are not doing this out here," she said in an undertone. She was trying desperately to reel things in as they escalated but she knew in her heart of heart's that they were in trouble now because the fight had clearly not left the teen yet. In fact, it looked like she was getting started.

"No you're not! You're not, Stef! I don't want to talk to you anymore!" she screamed, louder than she had ever did with either of the women. In frustration, she pitched the drink container against the pavement.

Observing the teen's every move, Stef sprang to her feet and side-stepped out of the way before the plastic lid got knocked off, spraying its contents. As Callie tried to take the opportunity to slam the door shut, the cop pushed her body in the space between the car and the door, putting a kibosh on the plan.

Just like that, her patience was gone. She had been in a blind panic for most of the day over this kid who had the gall to be disobedient and obstinate after everything that had transpired. Callie had tested her patience all morning, run away twice, and was now effectively jeopardizing their plan to help her. The cop was at the end of her rope. But more acute were her feelings of failure as the situation began to unravel before her eyes—before her spouse, ex-husband, and probably their entire block by now—a glaring indication of her incapability to parent.

Seeing Lena step towards them, Stef raised a palm to stop her before extricating herself from the gap and wrenching open the door. This time, Callie didn't try to fight her. The cop walked several feet away from the car before turning to face the girl, who was filled with a level of rage and insubordination she had rarely seen before.

"Out. _Now_ ," she ordered. "And if you think for a second I won't drag you out of there myself you are going to be sorely mistaken." Even as Stef issued the threat, she could see that the teen was not budging at all. She was going to make it hard for her. Worried that Callie would call her bluff, the woman knew it was time to get on the offensive.

"OUT OF THE CAR NOW!" she bellowed, causing Callie to startle and immediately jump out of the car right where Stef was waiting for her.

"Are you really choosing to go down this road again?" Stef hissed dangerously as the girl looked down at the pavement.

" _Look. At. Me_." When the girl shook her head, flat out refusing to acknowledge her, Stef reached out with her forefinger to lift Callie's chin. Seeing that the girl's fury had been replaced with fear, she regretted yelling; however, she was also determined not to let her to get away with refusing to listen any longer.

She began to give Callie a tongue-lashing which she felt was more than deserved at this point. "I am beyond frustrated with you, young lady. I understand that you're not happy with me right now— _I get that—_ but you do not get to be disrespectful. You know perfectly well that the way you're acting is unacceptable."

"When we tell you to do something you do it, Callie. The first time! You do not tell Mama and I _no_."

"Why not?" the youth dared to backtalk as she crossed her arms. Shrugging to get out of Stef's hold, she finally looked up out of her own volition and fixed the cop with a defiant glare.

"No, I want to know," Callie challenged, seeing the woman's shocked expression as she opened her mouth to shut her down. Her voice came through uncharacteristically flat, like it had been in Dr. Wiseman's waiting room right before she had ran.

"Know _what, Callie?"_ The cop's response was curt, exasperated. Time was a precious commodity.

"Why you need to listen to us and do as we say? Because we are your _parents,_ that's why! Because we're looking out for what's best for you because you obviously cannot make good decisions for yourself." Stef let out a sarcastic scoff as Callie's anger boiled over once more.

"See!" the teen shouted, beside herself with frustration as she felt the tears begin to well up.

It hadn't even been the question Callie had been building up the courage to ask. She wanted to know why it was okay for them to tell her what to do without caring about how she felt. How Stef could say she knew what was best for her or what was a good decision when she was the one who was left alone feeling the ripple effects of what Dr. Wiseman had said.

Fists clenched by her sides, Callie retaliated. "You think you know everything and you push me around but you don't! You don't know nothing about what's best for me, Stef. You weren't there!"

"You don't just get to take it and say it like it meant nothing, okay? Like—like _I_ was nothing! It wasn't your story to tell and you—you had no right!" Her voice broke as she began to cry out of sheer anger.

Tired and confused, Stef couldn't fully understand what the girl was referring to. All she knew was that Callie was still being rude and she would not have that. "That is enough. You're done acting this way, you hear? You're done."

"Uh—uh. No." She pointed her finger at Callie who had opened her mouth to argue. "You might want to reconsider pushing me right now because you are in enough trouble as is. Continue beaking off like this and I guarantee you will regret it," she said severely.

"I don't care!" Callie screamed. And she didn't. She was so hurt and in so much shit now that none of it mattered; she and Jude would probably be gone tomorrow.

" _Fuck you._ "

"HEY! You watch your mouth! What did I _just_ finish saying about respect?" Annoyance and irritation hitting an all time high, the woman scolded, "I do not know what has gotten into you Callie, but this behaviour needs to stop. Now!"

"I don't want to talk to you anymore! I don't…I don't want you! You are not my mom!" Callie started to break down. Though she was still upset with Lena for coming up with the whole idea in the first place, it had been the cop who cornered her and pushed her right into the lion's den. Stef was to blame—for unearthing memories, one especially that she couldn't shake that caused her to spiral into a panic. The woman was, by all intents and purposes, the enemy.

The words caught Stef completely off guard. Despite understanding that Callie was lashing out of fear and anger, the words still stung. "Honestly, I could care less what you want right now so it's too bad!" she snapped, her temper fully flaring now at the girl's obstinacy. "It's too bad that I am not done talking so you are going to have to listen."

"I get that you had a crappy day, that you're upset we made you do something you didn't want to. Well guess what—guess what? Sometimes we have to do things we don't like because it's for our own good so buck up!"

"You don't run away because you decide you don't want to do as you're told, because you didn't get your way. We had no idea where you were for almost five hours—I almost filed a missing persons report!"

"Why didn't you then?" Callie retorted. "Then you wouldn't have to deal with me anymore!"

"Because! That's not how this works!" the cop snapped, lighting into her. "You don't push our buttons and make choices you know are unacceptable, then run away when it's time to deal with the mess you made. You made some really poor choices today and you'd better believe that there will be consequences for that."

"I wasn't running away!" Callie protested tearfully, unable to look at the cop any longer. Stef didn't get it at all. She had run because it felt like she'd suffocate if she stayed. Not because she was trying to make a point about not wanting to go to therapy like the cop was accusing her of. She hadn't meant to get that far.

"Then _what—what Callie—_ do you call the little jaunt you took down to the port, then, if it wasn't running away?"

"I was going to come back! What's it to you where I go, anyway?"

"Oh Callie, you have no idea what could have happened, do you? How wrong all of this could have turned out…"

Desperate to make her understand and struggling to keep her voice down, Stef focused all her attention on trying to spell out the risk as articulately as she could for the girl. It was the only thing she could think of doing so she wouldn't resort to shaking her. "If anyone in law enforcement had found you, anyone other than Mike or I, they would have formally apprehended you. They wouldn't have had any choice but to book you because of your record."

"Do you not see, _Callie_ , that it would not have meant anything—it would not have meant _CRAP_ whether you intended on coming back or not! Do you not _SEE THAT?"_ she screamed in abject frustration, her own tears falling as she finally broke down.

"Do you want to get taken away from us? Is that what you want? Because let me tell you—keep this up and you can be damned sure that's the direction in which you're headed," Stef warned.

"So unless you want to get sent back to juvie or to a group home, you're going to get your butt inside right now. I will not tell you again."

The guilt crept in as she saw Callie immediately subdued by her words, wide-eyed at the revelation of what could have been. Nothing she said had been new to the teen, of course, but it had been the first time she had said it out loud and she questioned how appropriate the message had been.

But at the same time, seeing the fight completely dissipate from Callie, the woman felt as though she could breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, it seemed that the girl had begun to appreciate the magnitude of her actions. The cop hadn't even considered that Callie might have misunderstood the point she'd been trying to make.

A soft hiccup escaped the teen as the words sunk in, leaving her numb and hoping she had been mistaken in what she had just heard. "But you promised…" she said, her voice a whisper of disbelief. After repeated reassurances that they would be there for her no matter what she did, that they wouldn't ever think to get rid of her, Callie was sure Stef had just stated otherwise. That if she kept messing up they would have her and Jude taken from their home.

"Sweetheart, please don't argue anymore. We will talk about this later. Mom and I just need a bit of time to figure some of this out," Lena interjected—she, too, uncharacteristically missing the reason for the despondency in the girl. "Let us figure out how we're going to handle this."

 _There it was, Callie thought. First the ultimatum. Now, a discussion over if she had to go this time or if she could stay a little longer…for now._

"Love, please," Stef all but begged. "Please just do as you're told and stop fighting." Concerned at how disheartened her daughter looked, she embraced her tightly and gave her a peck on her forehead. Speaking softly but sternly, she quietly issued her instructions. "I want you on our bed having calmed yourself down by the time Mama and I get there. It'll be okay. You're going to be okay," Stef soothed, holding Callie just a little longer.

Little did she know that Callie had already begun to misconstrue her intentions.

* * *

 **Author Note:**

Who did you think was more responsible for how everything went down, Callie or Stef? Who did you empathize with more? What should Stef and Lena's next steps with Callie be to address what's going on?

~b


	19. Author Note - Not a Chapter

**Author Note**

Hi lovelies,

Several of you have asked if I'll keep Dr. Wiseman in and came up with ideas for scenes with her. Thank you! It's fun for me to hear them and I love the challenge of seeing where they might fit in. I can go either way with the storyline especially since I'm hearing some of you love her while others don't.

If you have an opinion about whether she stays or goes, and what type of role you'd like to see her in, I'd love to hear it. It could be more 1:1, family therapy, or another specific topic (preferably one that hasn't been done before). If Callie should be forced to attend or if she chooses to cooperate.

I'll tally the responses and try my best to meet your reading needs. I was going to do a poll then realized only registered users could participate.

As an aside, some of you have pointed out that my writing can be overly detailed and that it takes awhile to get to the point. I'm really sorry, it's not my intention to make it hard to read. I fully acknowledge that I tend to use more prose and narration. I'm finding it hard to please everyone because style seems to be a personal preference but I'll try my best to leave the dialogue as unadulterated as I can. As a reader though I love it when writers delve into the perspectives of each character. If any of you have any more ideas to clean up the writing, drop me a line.

For those of you who find the story dragging, we're almost at the halfway mark. Slow burn with multiple story arcs and requests will do that, I guess. That's just how things churned out and I hope you'll stick around.

As always, thank you for all your love and support,

~b


	20. Crossing the Line

**Chapter 18: Crossing the Line**

Callie stared blankly up at the ceiling as she lay at the foot of the women's bed, her legs dangling off the edge. She couldn't help but ruminate on Stef's harsh words and wonder what they meant for her future with them. If and when they'd tell her to go; if today had been the last straw and they were reconsidering their initial interest in her and Jude's adoption.

 _"Do you want to get taken away? …keep this up and that's the direction you're headed."_

 _"Unless you want to get sent back to juvie or a group home, you're going to…"_

The insinuation of what the women would do was clear. If she didn't shape up, she'd have to ship out. They'd have her taken away.

While the thought had always remained in the back of her mind, with the women's encouragement, Callie had been trying to let go of her worries. From the very beginning, Stef and Lena had insisted on their commitment to doing everything they could to make sure their home would be her and Jude's final stop. And because they seemed to be the sort of people who kept their word and had never given her any real reason to believe otherwise, it had become harder and harder to uphold the original wariness with which she had regarded them.

For the first time since entering foster care, Callie discovered that the part of her that wanted to trust the women was slowly winning over her mistrust more often than not. She had become increasingly comfortable around them, getting used to their way of doing things and falling into the family's routine. The Fosters had turned out to be the nicest people they had ever been placed with—the closest thing to the forever family she'd always hoped to be a part of.

The petition for adoption had been filed quickly, which helped allay some of her fears, but things felt so precarious now. The documents had been submitted before she had begun to get into trouble at school and at home. Perhaps they were only beginning to realize how much she wasn't worth bringing into their home.

Trying to calculate how many more homes she could possibly go through before she turned eighteen and aged out, Callie felt tired and discouraged. She pictured her brother's disappointment at losing a chance to be part of a good home—at having a family again—and felt nothing but guilt.

Why did she have to be such a screw up?

* * *

Ten minutes passed and Callie itched for a puff of a joint to help take the edge off the adrenaline from her fight with Stef. The tightness in her chest, restlessness, and compounding stress felt as though they'd never wear off and she was desperate for relief.

Remembering the items the cop had taken from her, Callie suspected there'd be a good chance they hadn't been disposed of yet. And that they couldn't be anywhere other than somewhere in the master bedroom so that the kids wouldn't get their hands on it.

Callie quickly sat up and walked over to open the window, craning her neck outside. Mike had long since pulled out of the driveway but she could still hear Stef and Lena's voices drifting up from the front porch. Despite the cool air, she decided to keep the window open; that way, if the talking ceased she would know that they were coming inside.

Recognizing the rare opportunity where she was alone in the house and could safely look through the women's bedroom without drawing anyone's attention, Callie solidified her intent to act before she could talk herself out of it.

* * *

Callie first rifled through the dresser and nightstands before making her way to the en suite, where she meticulously went through the medicine cabinet as well as the narrow linen closet adjacent to the washer and dryer. Finally, she turned her attention to the women's closet. Several of Lena's silk blouses slipped off their plastic hangers as she parted the sea of clothes, leaving her scrambling to hang them back up. Next, she checked Stef's uniforms in case the cop had forgotten to empty her pockets. Finding nothing, she moved onto the closet's shelving unit, taking down some of the see-through Rubbermaids containing Lena's scarves, shoes, and fancier clothing to create space to check in between them.

As her desperation mounted, Callie found it increasingly difficult to keep evidence of the search inconspicuous. While items were generally returned to their rightful place, she became less certain of how they had previously sat in relation to each other. The clothes that were hanging up and the way the bins sat seemed messier than before but Callie couldn't figure out how to get the closet looking the way it did before. Crossing her fingers, she hoped that Stef and Lena wouldn't look closely enough to notice.

Her hand grazed the heavy metal gun safe as she put the last bin back and without a second thought, she punched in the numeric string as she had seen the cop do before. 548953#. The unit beeped and the electronic mechanism gave way before Callie truly recognized what she had done.

Regret set in immediately. Unlike some foster parents who kept their bedroom under lock and key, Stef and Lena always maintained an open door policy. As such, all the kids could come and go as they wanted. It was freeing, not having a locked door reminding them that the home was a business contract between the adults and the state.

However, it also meant that it hadn't been difficult to discern the code to the safe. Callie had found out the first week of the placement, the morning she sat on their bed as Stef got ready for work while Lena tried to find a pen to sign the textbook loan forms. Still wary of the cop and uncertain if the women were who they insisted they were, Callie had watched her unlock the safe and committed the code to memory in case of emergency.

Standing on her toes to peer inside, her heart pounded at seeing the outlines of the handgun, taser, magazines, cuffs, and keys split between the compartments of the dark metal unit. Although Callie knew that Stef was vigilant about keeping the weapon unloaded when it wasn't on her and she could clearly see that the magazine was not engaged, she was thrown off by the negative visceral reaction.

 _You're such a baby,_ she criticized herself. But there was no way she was putting her hand in there. It was the reason that those things existed—to maim and contain others—that creeped her out. Hastily closing the small door, Callie straightened the safe, making sure it sat parallel to the shelf's edge. She didn't care if Stef and Lena found out about her going through their room but this was one thing she really didn't want them to find out about.

As the familiar crinkle of thin ziploc caught her ear, Callie fumbled for the bag. She finally managed to retrieve it from where it was caught between the bottom of the unit and the rung of the coated metal shelf. Taking inventory, the teen was grateful to find that Stef hadn't thrown anything away; all the items had been shoved into the baggie, leaving it burgeoning.

Callie's relief and excitement were short lived as she realized how much shit she was going to be in. It'd only be a matter of time before Stef would find the hidden sandwich bag gone and when that happened, she'd know exactly who was responsible. So focused on trying to get a smoke, Callie hadn't thought about how she would do that once she found her stash. It had seemed like such an easy, foolproof plan initially but now she could see that she would be hard pressed to find another opportunity where she could be alone. Her best bet at this point was to climb out her window and up onto the roof after Stef and Lena were asleep—but nighttime was still hours away. She needed to deal with the stress now.

Suddenly hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, Callie emptied the bag and hastily stuffed the items into her pockets. Cigarettes and joints in one; rolling papers, multi tool, and lighter in the other. Though Stef would be mad when she found out, there was no way she was returning them to their hiding place—not after all that work.

She had just crumpled the plastic in her fist when the sound of the door being pushed open startled her.

* * *

Stef was automatically concerned by Callie's reaction when she entered the bedroom. The girl had jumped, spinning around to stare at her like a deer in the headlights. Her right hand was balled into a fist, which she immediately threw behind her back as soon as she saw the cop eyeing her suspiciously. Her left hand followed soon after. The most obvious flag though, was how full the front pockets of the overalls were.

The woman decided to cut to the chase without worrying about how accusatory she sounded for she was certain that Callie was up to something. "Want to tell me what's going on, sweets?"

"No." Worried at how defensive she sounded, the teen added unconvincingly, "Nothing's goin' on, Stef."

Right away, the cop noticed that something about the reply was off. Delivered a little too quickly for her liking, the inflection in Callie's voice belied the confidence she wished to portray and unintentionally phrased the _'no'_ as a question.

"Are you sure? You're pretty flushed. Are you feeling alright?" Stef asked, keeping her voice soft as she walked toward her daughter. She hoped that a more indirect, gentler approach would catch Callie off guard; it had worked like a charm the times she had caught her in a lie.

"You sure there isn't anything you would like to tell me?" she pressed as Callie stared at the floor, nervously shuffling in place. A dead giveaway that the girl was being dishonest.

"No—I mean, yeah," Callie insisted as the woman frowned. Stumbling over her words and desperate to get her panic under control, she told herself that all she needed to do was to get through Stef's lecture so she could escape to her room. Surely, she could manage that.

At hearing the familiar stammer, the cop grew stern. "Eyes up here, please," she instructed, bringing Callie's chin up with her forefinger so the girl couldn't avoid her gaze any longer.

The guilty expression was clearly telling her what the answer to her question should have been, but Stef wanted to give the teen another chance to come clean. "Are you being truthful with me right now?" she questioned. Her disappointment rose when the girl swallowed before nodding slowly.

As the cop fixed her with a level gaze, Callie knew that the chances of being able to get herself out of this hole weren't looking good. It would only be a matter of time before Stef found out; somehow, the cop always managed to figure out whenever she lied. While Callie understood very well that lying was against the rules, all she could focus on was self-preservation. Maybe, _just maybe_ , things would be different this time and she'd fly under Stef's radar. She couldn't get into trouble for this too, not on top of everything else she had done to piss off the women.

Stef felt her annoyance increase. She had been hoping to come upstairs to make sure the girl was doing okay after their argument outside and to try and have a calm discussion about why she had run away. Expecting anything but this.

"Okay. Here's what's going to happen," she said in exasperation. "I'm going to give you one more chance to come clean. If you tell the truth about what you're hiding I will be lenient with your earlier answers and you won't get in trouble with me for lying. But if I have to work to find out what's going on myself—and believe me, I will find out—then I promise you, Callie, you are not going to be happy with me."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "It's up to you whether you want to make things easier or harder for yourself," she warned.

"I swear, I don't have anything," she mumbled. A last-ditch effort to evade the woman.

The cop smiled sadly as Callie paled, realizing she was doing a fine job at tripping herself up. "I didn't say you had anything…but if you don't, there's nothing to be worried about, is there?" Stef waited for the girl to nod reluctantly. "Glad we have an understanding. Now, let's see what you've got there," she said.

Callie's hands immediately flew out from behind her. " _What?_ No! I didn't even do anything!"

"Then I'll have no reason to be upset with you," Stef said patiently. It was clear that the girl was not going to make things easy.

Not wanting another blowup but knowing whatever Callie was trying to hide was definitely something she needed to know about, she softened her tone. "What is it that you're wanting to hide from me, love?"

The messy state of the closet suddenly caught her attention. As Stef looked closer, she could see that clothes were hanging crookedly on their hangers, some of which were bunched together instead of evenly spaced out. Turning her attention to the rest of the bedroom she noticed that one of the dresser drawers was partly open while another had a sock protruding, as if hastily closed, something that annoyed Lena to no end. The pieces were slowly connecting together.

"Oh, _Callie."_

Her stomach dropped at the woman's quiet, disappointed tone confirming her fear; Stef not only knew she was lying but exactly what she was lying about.

"Let's try this again. This time, I want the truth. You can tell me in words or show me what you have that's so important to keep from me," Stef said firmly as her daughter's face reddened. The cop was pretty sure she already knew what was up, but wanted to give her a chance to come clean on her own.

"It's your choice. Otherwise I will search you so we can get this all over with," she stated calmly. "This is not up for debate."

"You can't do that!" Callie argued as she was forced to accept that she was running out of ways to stall the inevitable. Running wasn't even an option because the cop was right in the path of the doorway.

" _Stef!_ " she huffed, gesturing flippantly to punctuate her name which immediately got the woman's back up. "That's like part of my person!"

"And this is— _like_ —my house and you are my kid, whether you like it or not!" the cop snapped, her irritation growing with the girl's hardheadedness. _God if thirteen was a window into fourteen and fifteen…_

"This is bull! You always think the worst of me!" Callie yelled. She knew it was unfair but she was grasping at straws, saying anything she could think of to put off the moment Stef would find proof to confirm her suspicion.

Her emotions left her confused—because as much as she was sure her days with Stef and Lena were numbered, when it came down to it, she didn't want to leave their home. She didn't want to leave them. She didn't want to get into any more shit and be even more of a disappointment than she already was.

"That's not fair, sweetheart," Stef said, straightening at the accusation. "You know that is not true. Mama and I do not think the worst of you but you need to understand that trust is at an all time low," she explained gently. It was not hard to see the unhappiness and dread behind Callie's outburst. "We're having a hard time believing that you're able to make good decisions based on some of the ones you've made recently.

As tears pricked her eyes, Callie regretted playing that card; she hadn't expected how much it would hurt to hear that. It felt as though she had dug herself into a hole so deep that she would never be able to climb back out. Like she had lost hundreds of points in trust and would need to earn back the equivalent just to make it back to zero before she could start getting their trust back. So why even try when she knew it would be impossible?

Especially not if Stef and Lena could easily break their word about wanting to adopt her.

How long had the women planned on getting rid of her if she didn't do what they wanted? Had it always been in the back of their minds or was it a recent development?

She didn't want them to have that over her, to give them the chance to hurt her again. If they planned on sending her back, she'd rather have it be sooner than later—the longer things went on, the more it would hurt.

"Fine. Just fine, Stef!" she sassed, reaching into her pockets to empty them, letting the items drop to the floor one by one.

The cop forced herself to take a deep breath before looking down and shaking her head. Her kid was out of control.

Stressed, afraid, and in need of relief, Callie gave in to recklessness as her fingers wrapped around a joint. Looking Stef straight in the eye, she brought it up to her mouth while she fumbled for the lighter with her other hand. Before her foster mother could react, Callie lit the dooby and took her first hit.

* * *

Stef's pragmatic side told her that the girl was pushing their boundaries to see if she and Lena were serious about wanting her for the long haul. Thanks to therapy, she finally understood that Callie was lashing out in her grief, subconsciously threatened by the prospect that she and Lena would push Mom and Dad out of the picture. But even with this awareness, she was finding it difficult to keep it together.

"Hand it over, now," Stef demanded. She held out her palm, hoping her daughter would make the right decision this time. She had hoped that the edge in her voice would be enough to get Callie to comply; however, the teen only took another prolonged drag as she continued to glare at her.

"This is your final warning, Callie."

When the girl refused, Stef took another deep breath and marched over to where she was standing, fully prepared to snatch the joint from her mouth. In the length of time it took her to reach Callie, the teen took a bigger hit and directed a cloud of smoke in her direction—further testing her patience.

Callie, knowing full well that she was about to lose her dooby, turned away. In less than a second, she felt Stef swiftly grab her by her arm and pull her back to face her.

"Oh no you don't, young lady. You do not walk away from me. Not after something like this," Stef said, grabbing the offending item right from Callie's lips. She dropped it into a drinking glass left on the dresser before turning her attention once again at the unruly youth, who now looked completely despondent.

The woman cradled Callie's face between both palms. "I do not know what has gotten into you, but you have crossed the line one too many times today. I am beyond frustrated with you right now."

"I know that you are upset with Mama and I but you do not get to disrespect us by going through our belongings like that. You don't take things that I rightfully confiscated from you," she admonished.

Stef fixed her gaze on the teen as she pointed at the glass. " _This_ is not an appropriate way to deal. You need to come to us if you feel bad. We will _help_ you find another way to cope," she emphasized, her voice rising in annoyance. "Because this I won't tolerate, Callie. Getting high is not something I will tolerate in my home and I have no intention of letting you do that just because you are upset."

"What do you have to say for yourself? I want an explanation," she demanded.

Never did the woman expect an answer to come from the timed intrusion alarm on her gun safe.

* * *

 **Author Note:**

Thank you so much for all your ideas and kind messages of encouragement. So impressed and grateful for the love, acceptance, and camaraderie I've discovered here. ~b'shert


	21. In Hot Water

**Author Note:**

Many thanks to **meyouthem123** and **StephtheWriter** for being my sounding boards when I was trying to find my way with this chapter. You guys were open-minded and non-judgmental through what proved to be a challenging write. Here it is, finally, in its eighth iteration... ~b

Trigger warning for sensitive topics.

* * *

 **Chapter 19:** **In Hot Water**

The high pitched, continuous beep caught Stef's attention. Right away, she noticed that the little light on the keypad was red.

Denial instinctively protected her from the discovery and her first thought was to troubleshoot. She tried to recall if the alarm ran on a lithium ion and how long it was covered under warranty, figuring that either the battery had died or the device was malfunctioning. Sidestepping toward the closet to get a closer look, the cop felt the hair on the back of her neck rise at seeing the vault door ajar.

"What the _hell?_ " she gasped with incredulity. She was sure she had locked it. The last time she had been in uniform had been Tuesday afternoon, when she had unsuccessfully tried to send Callie to her room. Deciding to give the teen some space to calm down until Lena came home, she had gone upstairs to change. She definitely remembered the beep of the safe closing—the sound ingrained and expected over decades of hearing it.

It had only ever gone off once before, during the testing phase of the installation process. Stef already had the vault at home as she had been working at the precinct for several years at that point; however, she and Lena decided to add the alarm as an extra precaution after they started fostering Jesus and Mariana.

The children, so used to having people coming in and out of their home and not having a proper sleep-wake routine, kept them up all hours of the night. After a few weeks of stressful night shifts and unexpected overtime on top of the sleep deprivation, Stef had woken up to discover that while her service weapon had been returned to its rightful spot, the door had been left unlocked. With Lena's help, she found an intrusion alarm that could be installed without replacing the whole unit. It sat just on the inside wall and was connected to a minuscule metal disk that went between the door and the safe. The sensor was reverse pressure sensitive, set to activate if the door was left open for more than five minutes.

After that incident, Stef developed a meticulous routine to minimize the chance of missing a step. Even with the alarm, she worried about forgetting items in the bedroom so she started facing the closet to change at the end of each shift. After returning low risk items to the safe, she would remove the handgun from its holster and disengage it from the magazine before putting both away and locking the vault. Her uniform shirt and slacks shared the same wooden hanger, the duty belt precariously balanced over the pants.

* * *

Right away, the woman picked up on the stark contrast in Callie's demeanour. Unlike the defensiveness Stef had seen when she had first come into the bedroom, her daughter had become strangely subdued. As if she were a little kid caught doing something wrong and accepting that she couldn't hide her misbehaviour.

"Callie, stop," she uttered in cautious disbelief, alarmed by the girl trying to sidle away in her peripheral vision. "Stop right there, please."

With a great deal of reluctance, the girl complied. She was all too familiar with just how loudly Stef could yell when she got angry enough and dread set in as she awaited the reaction. But even though she knew that there'd be no getting out of this one, she was unable to bring herself to face her foster mother.

It didn't matter, Callie learned, as she soon found the woman standing before her.

As much as Stef tried not to jump to conclusions, her mind was all over the place and she imagined every possible worst case scenario as she tried to make sense of the evidence confronting her. Callie was chewing her bottom lip and fidgeting with her hands, unable to meet her gaze—the classic signs of nervousness.

"Look at me," she said sternly.

God, how she hated using that line with Callie who had been trained to avoid direct eye contact—that it was a means to confrontation and violence. Both she and Lena had been diligently working on dispelling this notion, trying not to push it too much with Callie and Jude to help ease the transition. But it had been so hard lately. It felt like all she did was to tell her child to look her in the eye with the hope that doing so would drive home whatever point she was trying to make and curb Callie's misbehaviour.

Unwilling to wait for an answer in her impatience, Stef ducked her head to search the teen's face for a possible explanation. She hoped that her suspicions would be proven wrong this time around.

Callie's reaction was telling. Still looking down, she turned her head slightly to give the cop a rueful wince before averting her gaze. The tremor in her voice was unmistakable.

 _"Stef?"_

* * *

At the sudden realization that duty had come to call in her own home, Stef instinctively stepped back and adopted the ready position. Arms close to her side with elbows at ninety degrees, she kept her knees slightly bent in the event she needed to move fast.

Her crisis management skills, which she had been having a great deal of difficulty implementing just an hour ago outside, finally kicked in. For everyone's safety and for her own sense of ethical responsibility, Stef knew that she would need to follow protocol and go with her assumptions for the time being.

That part was easy, ingrained into her procedural memory after decades of practice.

It was how she would remain a mother in all of this that was the hard part.

Doing a quick once over of the girl, she was grateful for the dumb luck that had been with her when she hastily picked Callie's outfit earlier that day. The overalls were slim cut, the bib front the only area with a bit of bagginess. While the front pockets had held everything the teen dropped onto the floor, they were far too shallow to hide a handgun. Stef figured that the back pockets would likely be similar in style but without having seen them, she needed to exercise due diligence.

"Listen carefully to me, Callie. You've been in a room where you had access to a weapon and I need to make sure you are safe," she spoke evenly, trying to convey a sense of urgency. "Do you understand?"

Receiving a surprised look, Stef realized with some guilt that it was the first time the girl had heard her as if she were at her job.

"I— I didn't—" Callie began, immediately getting cut off.

"Yes or no, sweets."

"Yes," Callie whispered. She had never heard her foster mother talk to her in this way before.

"I'm going to need you to do a few things very shortly," Stef began, choosing her words carefully as she forced her panic down. All she could do was hope that a warning about next steps would help move the process along.

Off duty officers were obligated to conduct searches and make arrests if justified but Callie likely didn't know any of this. Worried that the girl would fight her if she didn't understand, Stef knew that she needed to modify her approach if they were to avoid going down that path. Under no circumstance could she afford refusal or resistance—because the thought of having to conduct a full pat down of Callie perpetuating her fear of the police nearly made her physically ill.

"It's very, very important that you follow my direction and not do anything other than what is asked of you. No sudden movements, okay? I will not put my hands on you unless I have reason to believe you have a gun on you," she commanded in a way that she hoped would induce some respect and compliance. Although Stef did not want to scare her, she really needed Callie's compliance—now more than ever.

"Yes or no?"

"Yes," Callie whimpered.

"Good girl," the woman praised.

"Arms up and out to your side where I can see them," she instructed, grateful when her daughter obeyed.

"Turn to your right and face the door. No, no—keep your arms up where they are," she gently corrected when Callie dropped her arms and went to cross her wrists behind her back. "Atta girl." A wave of relief washed over the cop when she saw both back pockets were empty.

"I didn't do what you think I did," the girl argued although she did as she was told. She sounded afraid, her voice trembling from the stress of it all for she was sure the cop was going to arrest her.

"Shhh. Not now, baby. Keep turning to your right. I need you to face the bed for me," she coaxed.

Although Stef had told herself she had a job to do and not to engage with Callie to make things easier on the both of them, she was finding it challenging to detach herself. It was impossible to stop being a parent—to not want to protect and maintain a sense of safety for her child from what she could only imagine was a terrifying situation.

She took a deep breath before moving toward Callie, stopping to stand directly beside her shoulder as the teen stiffened beside her. "You're doing great, Callie. Almost done. Almost done," she soothed, trying to calm her down. They were so close to the home stretch now that it'd be a damned shame for things to unravel.

"Lower your arms for me, love. It'll be more comfortable." She was relieved when her daughter dropped her arms, emphasizing the bagginess in the top half of the overalls. Being a full head taller than Callie, it was easy to see that there was nothing hidden between the tee shirt and the front panel.

"Thank you. Stay right there where I can see you," she said, issuing her last directive at the dejected minor standing before her as she made her way back to the closet.

Now that she was sure that the girl was unarmed, the vault itself was the only thing left to check. Widening the little door while keeping Callie in her field of vision, she let out a drawn out breath at seeing her handgun. She double-checked that the safety switch was still on and the magazine was disconnected, being intentional about keeping her hands in the compartment so she wouldn't frighten Callie. After taking inventory of the remaining gear, she reset the alarm and carefully pushed on the door until she heard a click. The keypad light changed to green when the electronic mechanism fully engaged.

As she worked through her usual process, Stef's frustration mounted. Not only had Callie put herself at risk, but she had thrusted a potentially volatile situation upon her that shattered the safety she and Lena had worked so hard to establish in their home. Together with the fact that the girl had turned their room inside out just so she could toke up, Stef couldn't help but feel a sense of violation.

She couldn't believe Callie's audacity to do any of this after she had been brought home for running away and their exchange outside. They were beyond just stubborn defiance now—Callie's recent choices illustrating just how far her disregard of her probation and lack of respect for boundaries went.

* * *

The knot in Callie's stomach grew as she watched her foster mother check over her police gear and she realized she had gone too far this time. To be honest, the possibility of getting caught had seemed unlikely and it had been easy to let it slip from her mind once the vault door was closed and the items were stashed away in her pockets. But now that Stef had discovered the truth, Callie couldn't figure out what she'd been thinking when she decided to go through their room and what compelled her to unlock the gun safe as part of that endeavour.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Still trying to recover from her panic, Stef took a deep, steady breath. Unable to bring herself to face her daughter just yet, she looked straight up and blinked away tears before turning away from the closet. "Are you sorry or are you sorry you got caught?"

"I know you're really mad—"

"Angry does not even begin to describe what I'm feeling right now!" she snapped. "Honestly, Callie! I can't believe you. I don't even know what to say to get through to you anymore." She let an uncomfortable silence settle between them as she maintained a hardened gaze at Callie, hoping that the teen would get the hint that she was expecting some sort of explanation from her.

"I swear, it's not like that. It's not what it looks like—" Callie began.

"Then what? What is it supposed to look like? Tell me what this is all about because to me it looks like you just broke into my gun safe," the cop responded, not letting her finish.

She continued to berate the girl when she didn't receive a timely answer. "When I ask you a question I expect an answer! Did you or did you not break into the safe?"

"I wasn't breaking in!" Callie protested, dismayed at the situation she had managed to get herself into. While she had expected Stef to be upset with her, she hadn't ever seen Stef so furiously angry; her eyes were hard and jaw set in a tight line.

"I just entered the code and opened the door," she mumbled, only recognizing how much of a smart ass she sounded like after the words had left her mouth.

"You entered the code and opened the door," Stef repeated, incredulous that Callie was choosing this moment to give her attitude.

"If gaining access to something that is locked—off limits to every single person in this house other than me—is not considered breaking in then what is it? What would you call it, Callie?" she said angrily. Despite seeing the fear and anxiety etched on the young girl's face, she continued to fix her with a stern glare. Callie's gaze flitted back and forth until she let it fall completely, unable to look at her foster mother any longer.

Desperate to abate the woman's fury, Callie tried again to explain herself. "I didn't touch your gun, I swear Stef."

"If telling me this is supposed to make me less upset, then we've got a problem, Callie! It doesn't matter whether you touched it! Not that I would know if you're being truthful about it anyway," she scolded tersely, unable to remember the arrangement of the items in the safe. "This is about trust! You knowingly accessed things I keep locked for a reason. Did you _think_ I wouldn't find out? _Huh?"_

"Mama and I have explained to you in no uncertain terms what the expectations are in this house. There are a lot of rules, yes, but we have an open door policy when it comes to our bedroom. _Why, Callie_ , might you think that's the case?"

"Because we trust you!" the woman answered for her, not willing to hear what Callie might come up with. "We want to believe you have the maturity level and respect for our space to not do stuff like this!" she scolded as she gestured to the aftermath of Callie tearing apart their room.

The cop continued to issue stern words, her voice climbing, even as Callie's chin began to tremble. "One thing you'll learn is that it takes a lot of time and hard work to earn trust but it's so easy to lose. I'm really disappointed in you, Callie. Your behaviour shows that we need to think twice when you tell us something and wonder if you're being honest with us."

"I didn't mean to mess up! It was a mistake!" Callie shouted, becoming tearful at the woman's disappointment with her.

"NO! A mistake is a misunderstanding—when you don't know any better!" Stef yelled. Her impatience was hitting a fever pitch, exacerbated by the girl's refusal to take responsibility for her actions and limited understanding of why what she did was wrong.

"This was not a mistake; it was a bad choice. You had options and you chose to act in a certain way when you knew better."

Despite doing a breathing exercise in an effort to quell her frustration, Stef couldn't help the harsh edge in her voice. "I do not know what's been going on with you but you have been deliberately defying Mama and I, being disrespectful and fighting us this entire week. Your conduct has been reprehensible today. Running away, going through our belongings, _stealing…_ getting _high_."

"But you know what—I can deal with all of that. I can try and get as close to understanding where you were coming from. What I can't accept nor understand is you breaking into my safe. You crossed a line there and I am going to make sure you aren't ever tempted to make a choice like this again," she said. Her voice shook with sadness, frustration, and fear as her mind once again wandered to the very worst place it could go: Callie playing with her gun and hurting herself or someone else.

"I love you too much to let you get away with something like this," Stef said, determined to set her daughter straight as she reflected upon the significant inroads she and Lena had made with her. Callie had come a long way since coming to them and the changes they had seen in her in the past few months had not only exceeded Bill's expectations but were a testament to her resilience.

* * *

At hearing the unmistakable tremor, Callie looked up questioningly at her foster mother and was surprised at the tears in the woman's eyes. It was the very last thing she expected; crying wasn't something she had ever seen Stef do and that realization alone made her wish she could rewind the last hour and start over.

"Come here," Stef ordered firmly, snapping her fingers at the girl and pointing at the floor in front of her. She felt her temper fray even more when Callie refused and stepped away from her.

" _Now."_

"I am not playing. You are in deep trouble, young lady. I suggest you do not make things more difficult for yourself by disobeying me right now," she warned, increasingly frustrated with Callie's attempts to avoid punishment.

She could see that Callie was nervous and that the alarm bells were starting to sound as the words sank in; however, Stef was determined. There was no way she was going to allow Callie to keep sabotaging her own progress and risk being taken back into custody where she would certainly slip through the cracks in the system even more. Not without exhausting all options available to her, anyway.

"No…"

Finally losing patience, Stef marched over and nabbed her by the arm. "What— _what_ did I tell you about telling me no? You listen when I tell you to do something!" she whispered harshly.

Every ounce of logic told Callie to stay still—to comply so she wouldn't provoke the woman any more than she already had. But as she caught sight of the raised palm held at Stef's waist level, wrist cocked and fingers locked together, instinct screamed at her to defend herself.

Fully understanding what the cop intended to do, Callie began to cry. She twisted in the grip Stef had on her upper arm to try and get as far away from her hand as possible and threw her free arm back to protect herself.

Callie looked up hesitantly as she faced the woman. "Stef…d— don't," she said, failing to choke back a sob—her quiet protest more out of trepidation and confusion than anything else.

Stef's heart broke at her daughter's tears but at this point, she was certain that backing out would only add to the confusion. When she spoke next, her words came through desperate, no longer harbouring any of the harshness that had been present earlier. She needed Callie to hear her out and understand why she was being disciplined.

"I'm sorry, Callie, but this is what's happening. I am at a loss as to what else to do to get you to abide by our rules—to take us seriously when we tell you that you need to _listen."_

 _"_ Actions have consequences—you don't have to like it but you do need to accept that. Until you can show me you can respect our rules, this is the consequence for how you went about breaking our trust today."

* * *

Callie wanted to scream as her stomach flipped in fear and anticipation. _Please don't do this. Please don't. You promised. You promised me!_

"Move your hand," Stef said quietly. She paused, hoping that the girl would do as she was told, but shook her head sadly when she only came up against stubborn resistance.

"You are in hot water, Callie." In one swift move, she tugged her by the arm to bring her towards her and to the side.

In the struggle, Callie was forced to withdraw her free arm with which she was defending herself so she wouldn't lose her footing. She yelped and flinched as the woman swatted her hard across her bottom, hearing the slap echo before feeling its sting.

Steeling her resolve, Stef quickly brought her hand down twice more—wanting to follow through before her daughter could negotiate her way out of her grip.

Before Callie's cries at the sharp, deliberate reminders and her own self-doubt would get to her and make her question everything about her decision.


	22. Anguish, Cutting the Heart Asunder

**Author Note**

Thanks, everyone, for the phenomenal response to the last chapter. You guys are truly awesome. I'm still working my way through PMs so there's an extended note at the end that I hope will make up for the delayed response. ~b'shert

Thank you to **Lacorra** , who gave me some much-needed Lena inspiration. The title comes from a quote by Virginia Woolf: _"The beauty of the world has two edges. One of laughter, one of..."_

* * *

 **Chapter 20:** Anguish, Cutting the Heart Asunder

Horrified at what had just taken place, Stef wondered if trusting her intuition had lead her astray this time. What had seemed to be the most appropriate course of action now left her wishing she could erase how she had reacted mere moments ago.

Amidst Callie's soft cries and ragged breathing, her smarting palm was a glaring admission of what she had done. Even denial refused to protect her—stripping her of the hope that it had all been a bad dream.

Amidst the chaos, it took some time to realize that her daughter had stopped fighting. Guilt began to unfurl in her stomach as she loosened her grip and turned Callie to face her. Gathering her by the arms, Stef could no longer see any trace of the wilful, disrespectful teenager who was so bent on having her independence in spite of their rules. Suddenly, it was easy to recognize the actions she had seen as disobedience and determination to avoid punishment for what they really were: borne out of fear and wanting to steer clear of the discomfort. Shoulders dropped, Callie looked how she could only imagine she felt: small, defeated, and broken.

It was the utter betrayal, hurt, and confusion that was etched into Callie's expression—the cautious look the girl gave her as she tried to gauge if she'd be hit again, and the wince when she decided yes and braced for the impact—that Stef was wholly unprepared for and finally caused her own tears to fall. Her efforts to regain composure were further undermined at noticing Callie's despondency, a sudden juxtaposition against the earlier efforts to defend herself.

Just as quickly as she had looked up, Callie ducked her head and turned away. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to control her crying as the ache in her chest threatened to give way to sobs. Her eyes stung as she stared at the floor and squirmed uncomfortably in place, daring not to reach behind in case she needed her hands to defend herself against the cop. Though she wanted more than anything to get away from the woman, the fear of more coming her way if she disobeyed again kept her rooted in place.

* * *

"Don't you ever go into my safe again. Don't you ever, Callie!" the cop said in a fierce, tearful whisper. She shook her gently by the shoulders, becoming increasingly emotional at the thought of how the situation could've ended up even worse than it had.

"You scared me half to death! What if something had gone wrong—what if you had gotten hurt?" Stef questioned, her voice climbing with desperation as she tried to make clear the potential harms behind the decision. "These are not toys, honey." An overwhelming sense of dismay filled her as Callie nodded slowly and she saw fresh tears streak down her face—forcing her to accept that she was fully responsible for her daughter's distress.

"Please, Cal. No more acting this way, okay? This is not something that can happen again," Stef begged as she received another robotic nod. "I—I don't ever want to have to do that again." She cringed at how much she sounded like her own mother, who had frequently said the same thing to her after needing to discipline her whenever she became unruly. Already, she felt conflicted, struggling to find the right balance between making an indelible impression on the girl without scaring her needlessly.

"S—so—orry. I'm s—sorry, Stef," Callie stammered through her cries. She scrambled to come up with a sincere apology, anything that would placate the woman despite understanding that she had messed up terribly.

"Sweetness...will you look up for me?" There hadn't been any eye contact, but it was clear that Callie was filled with remorse.

Not wanting the cop to see her fall apart, Callie shook her head vigorously while continuing to look down. It seemed like a long time before she was able to offer a reply she hoped was acceptable. "N—no," she whispered. Despite her best efforts, the dam holding back her tears soon gave way.

At seeing Callie's face crumple under the weight of the day's events and the shock over what had happened, Stef too felt herself begin to break down.

"Oh, love," she said sympathetically. Bringing Callie into an embrace, she cradled the girl's head against her shoulder and swayed in place, hoping that the movement would be calming.

"Shh…I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Stef murmured, uncertain of what to say. "I didn't like doing that, not at all… Please don't cry, honey. I'm sorry." Her voice trembled as she realized that for the first time, Callie wasn't reciprocating. Instead, she stood awkwardly, almost as if half pulling away, while her arms remained limp at her side.

Stef knew the girl well enough to know what this would do to her and that she was far from okay. That raising a hand to her would've hurt her more than anyone else who had done so previously—because, unlike the others, Callie had started to trust her and Lena.

Past experience dictated that it wasn't going to be so much a lack of understanding of why a consequence had been issued that would be a problem, but rather _what_ Callie would have likely taken away from the experience. It'd be the low self-esteem and persistent insecurities that would breed confusion over what being hit could mean. The questions over if she was still loved and wanted, and if they would get dispose of her. If she could ever trust _her_ again for breaking the promise that they didn't get physical in their home. Those would be far more detrimental to her confidence and to the fragility of their growing relationship.

The both of them stood this way for awhile; Stef speaking in quiet, soothing tones and stroking her hair, until Callie's sobs began to subside.

"Are you alright?" She placed a kiss to the girl's temple, causing Callie to immediately stiffen in her grasp. _Of course she's not okay,_ she berated herself.

Callie deliberated her answer. She could tell by the hoarseness in Stef's voice that she was crying; however, the sudden departure from the way she had been acting not too long ago scared her more than ever. Stef was talking in the same gentle, caring way as she'd been when she was in police mode—before she turned into a much angrier person of herself. She had been so mad and harsh and Callie couldn't understand why the cop was trying to be nice after everything she'd done to piss her off.

"Y—yeah," she said faintly, letting her nose run onto the cop's shirt. Although uncomfortable at being held so close, she was grateful that Stef couldn't see her so she didn't have to worry about putting on a brave face just then. Especially as the knot of fear, helplessness, and confusion within her grew and threatened to overwhelm her.

 _How could she be okay? This was supposed to be home. The one they promised would be safe and filled with love, where she'd always be welcome._

She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid to have fallen for their bullshit.

* * *

Callie took a step back as soon as she was released. For the second time that day, she felt as if she was suffocating and needed to get away.

As Stef reached to brush the hair from Callie's face, she instinctively recoiled—stumbling backwards over her feet before falling hard onto the floor. She felt a pang of guilt as Callie automatically held an arm out in front of her to defend herself from the perceived threat. Understanding her fear, Stef immediately withdrew her hands and dropped to one knee so she wouldn't tower over the girl.

"I'm not going to hurt you, baby," she said softly at seeing the worried look Callie was regarding her with.

She deserved it. She knew she deserved it for lashing out at Callie in anger with no warning—no calm explanation of the consequence and what it would entail. In the span of a minute, Stef had confirmed the girl's fears that she and Lena were not who they insisted they were and given a reason why they shouldn't be trusted.

Although leaving things unresolved like this was the very last thing Stef wanted to do when she knew the girl needed to be comforted, now wasn't the right time. Not when Callie was acutely terrified of her and on the cusp of a panic attack. She struggled with leaving Callie alone and inadvertently creating a sense of abandonment even for a few minutes. However, as she heard the girl's breathing become more rapid and shallow, she realized that Lena had to take over. Right now, _she_ was the stressor, and she had to accept that there was likely very little she could do or say to quell Callie's mistrust.

"I'm not going to hurt you, love," Stef repeated. "I know you want to be alone and I promise you will have that, but right now we need Mama's help so I'm going to go get her, okay? You can either stay here or you can wait for us in your room," she offered, giving Callie an easy out.

Finally getting permission to leave, Callie clambered to her hands and feet to get up from the floor. She was careful to keep her eyes on the cop until the very last moment, when she had to turn to run out of the room.

* * *

Lena had been in a call with Bill when she heard a loud thud, followed by the sound of running feet in the upstairs hallway. A muffled bang came shortly after, causing her to cringe at what was presumably Callie's bedroom door closing shut. Over the course of their conversation, her stress level had risen as she tried to focus on what the Case Manager had to say amidst the raised voices from upstairs.

Evidently, Stef's idea of what a civil conversation entailed left something to be desired and Lena regretted not having gone upstairs together as they had originally wanted to. Remembering Bill's missed call from earlier that day had thrown a wrench into that plan. Not wanting to wait until Monday to speak with him or to leave Callie alone any longer than they already had by that point, they split up.

From the commotion, she was not entirely surprised when Stef appeared moments later, red in the face and looking completely worn out.

"Hey!" she said quietly, covering the mouthpiece as Stef stole both her pen and post-it pad. "Home visit needs to happen earlier." For now, she omitted the part about the Juvenile Probation Officer assigned to monitor Callie's parole wanting additional information over the recent incident reports.

"Adoption update. Almost done," Lena explained as her wife slid the notepad back towards her and she saw the hasty scrawl. _HELP._

Impatient, Stef reached over to underline her writing several times to emphasize the urgency of the situation. She didn't want Callie to be left by herself at all right now.

As Lena looked to Stef for an explanation, she noticed just how visibly upset and shaken her wife was. It was apparent that she had been crying.

"Bill, I hate to cut this short," Lena interrupted, understanding that she had to quickly wind things down. "I've just realized that I have a late phone meeting scheduled with the other administrators at school that's about to start in a few minutes here," she said, hoping it didn't sound suspicious. "I'll confirm with you first thing Monday about the home visit. Early in the week should be fine. We just want to make sure we give Callie and Jude a bit of a heads up."

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Lena's worries from the phone call to pale in comparison with what she learned from her wife.

As she approached the girls' bedroom, Stef on her heels, the irritation she harboured towards the woman escalated. She knew that as much as she was angry, she would need to push it aside so they could both be there for Callie. However, it was difficult not to perseverate on the exchange they had just had.

 _"Honey, what's going on?" Lena asked. Her wife's distraught demeanour indicated that something was gravely wrong._

 _"I hit her," Stef replied grimly. Still in shock over the string of unfortunate events, the cop found herself barely able to articulate what she had done which she knew Lena would not agree with at all._

 _There was a delay before the words registered but once they did, Lena immediately felt her back go up. "What? What do you mean you hit Callie?" she asked, hoping that she had misheard._

 _"Callie. I— she was so reckless and beyond wilful that I— I got so upset with her," she whispered. Her voice cracked with emotion. "Oh my God." Trying to choke back the sob crawling up her throat, Stef clamped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. Unable to speak, she mimicked a slap with her other hand._

 _"No. You didn't," Lena insisted in firm disbelief, unsure of who she was trying to convince._

 _"That is not an excuse! I don't care how infuriating she was, Stef!" she finally exploded, furious as she accepted what her wife was telling her. Not wanting Callie to overhear, Lena dropped her volume to a harsh whisper. "What the hell were you thinking? You are the adult in the situation—she is the child! You don't get to do that!"_

It was true that Callie was not an easy child. Far from it. But being easy to manage was never an expectation for any of their kids, and the difficulties hadn't ever meant that she wasn't easy to love or get attached to.

What had surprised her and Stef was the feeling that they were fumbling in the dark as if they were first time parents learning the ropes. Neither of them were perfect by any means; however, they usually found a solution somewhere between Stef's tough love and protectiveness, and her own gentle, authoritative way. That wasn't to say that they didn't disagree or argue when it came to issues around discipline but they had always managed to keep their cool. Until now, anyway.

* * *

She found Callie sitting huddled in the space between the desk and the foot of her bed. She was hugging a pillow, her shoulders shaking as she cried silently to herself.

Failing to notice Lena's presence until she got closer, Callie startled violently. She suddenly felt ill as she saw the cop standing a few feet away and wondered if Lena was planning to finish what Stef had started. After all, it had mostly been her stuff that had gotten messed up and the woman was probably just as angry with her, if not more. Realizing how vulnerable she was if Lena were to slap her too, she tried to curl her head further into the pillow.

The woman's heart fell at seeing Callie's stricken, tearstained face. She understood from the way Callie cowered away from her that the girl was afraid of her.

"Honey…" Lena said softly, crouching down onto her knee while keeping her distance, "I'm not going to hurt you. You're okay." Concerned at the shuddered gasps for breath, she was about to suggest that the window be opened but Stef was already on it without having to be asked. Callie was on the precipice of a panic attack. One hand was tucked behind the front panel of her overalls, holding onto a fistful of her t-shirt slightly to the left of her sternum. A habit of her daughter's that she had learned meant her heart was uncomfortably racing.

"I'm going to scoot a bit closer to you so you can hand me your pillow, okay?" Lena explained, not giving Callie a choice but also not wanting to frighten her any more than she already was.

She kept her voice quiet and soothing, hoping it would abate some of the girl's fear and panic. "I know you're not feeling great right now and I think some fresh air will help."

It was clear that extra reassurance was needed when she saw Callie glance at Stef with a worried look. " _Hey._ Hey. It's alright. You only have to worry about focusing on me right now," she said gently, trying to draw Callie's attention back to her. "Mom's just going to sit over on Mariana's bed in case we need her for anything." Though her hold on the soft object tightened, her daughter nodded, allowing her to finally approach and tug it away.

Lena sighed with a mixture of relief and despair. "There you are. I haven't seen enough of your beautiful face all day." Her internal germaphobe cringed as Callie sniffled and swiped at her runny nose with the back of her hand, which did little but to displace the strands of hair that were stuck to her wet cheeks.

It wasn't until she noticed the teen's dilated pupils that the strong whiff of marijuana hit her. Though she appreciated that some of the pieces were falling into place, it left her more curious than ever at what Callie could've possibly done that Stef felt compelled to hit their child. True, the use of any drugs went against their rules and probation but it hadn't been the first time Callie had smoked pot and her wife hadn't reacted like this before.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable at not having the safety of something to hide behind, Callie wrapped an arm around her knees protectively. She brought the crook of her other arm right up against her nose as she fought to stifle her crying. The sheer exhaustion from the ups and downs of the day, worrying over if Stef and Lena would kick her out, and fatigue the pot brought on had finally gotten the best of her.

"Bug," Lena said sympathetically. She hated to see Callie so miserable. "You don't have to hide."

"Will you let me hold you?" she asked, wanting to have the girl close to offer some security. She suspected how Callie had interpreted Stef's actions from how devastated she appeared. The last thing she wanted was for their daughter to think she wasn't deserving of their love because they had both been upset with her.

She wanted to cry as Callie peered at her cautiously, almost as if wondering why she was being kind to her and searching for any danger or inauthenticity behind the request. Trying to judge if Lena was a safe person to go to.

"I'm not mad," Lena added, seeing the girl struggle with wanting to accept the comfort and protection she was being offered. Fully expecting to be turned down, she was surprised when Callie slowly got up onto her knees and began to move towards her. Seeing the helplessness and fear etched into the girl's expression, she didn't hesitate to pull her into her arms.

"Oh my goodness. _Sweetheart,_ " Lena whispered, holding her tightly. "I'm right here. I've got you," she murmured. "No more tears. Everything's going to be okay."

Feeling her knee cap shift painfully, Lena sat cross-legged on the floor and helped her daughter climb onto her lap. Luckily, Callie was slight enough to fit in the space between her legs so she could also sit on the floor while facing her. Her bony knees straddled the woman around the waist.

It didn't take long for Lena's shoulders and lower back to begin to ache but she refused to move, grateful that the girl had come to her willingly and not yet ready to let her go. She could tell by the way Callie avoided making eye contact and buried herself into her curls that she was embarrassed by the childish position, so she held the girl even tighter and rubbed her back. No matter how old her kids got, she never wanted them to feel self-conscious over accepting physical affection.

"You're okay. You're not in any trouble with me. I'm not upset," Lena tried to console. Although she wondered how she would feel once she learned the whole story, her focus now was to help her daughter calm down.

"What, honey?" she questioned at hearing Callie blubber something incomprehensible.

"You will b—be!" the girl finally managed through noisy sobs, afraid of what Lena might do once she learned what she had done.

"Shh…" Lena stroked her daughter's hair lovingly, knowing it would be pointless to ask what this was all about. "I might be, honey," she said, wanting to be honest. "but you need to try and remember what we tell you, okay? That even when Mom and I get angry, never once does our love for you disappear. It doesn't matter what you do or how mad we might get."

She could see Dr. Wiseman's point about the girl's emotional immaturity—Callie had a lot of difficulty understanding that people were capable of more than one emotion at a time, and that one didn't displace another. Her anger at Stef flared up again—how had her wife not foreseen how their daughter would've interpreted her actions?

* * *

Stef watched her wife soothe Callie who had begun to sob uncontrollably. She sucked in a shaky breath, wanting so much to comfort the girl but also seeing her weariness. Lena patiently hummed as she held their daughter, whispering reassurances into her ear and kissing her hair every so often. Gradually, Callie's shuddered gasps gave way to quieter hiccupping and sniffling.

"Can you pass us an extra blanket?" Lena asked, noticing goosebumps on the girl's arm. If she had really wanted to, she could've reached to get to the one on Callie's bed; however, she wanted to do something to help repair the bridge between them.

Grateful that her wife was trying to give her a chance at some interaction with their daughter, she grabbed the marled throw from Mariana's bed. "Here my loves," Stef said as padded over slowly. "I've got you covered," she added. Her attempt at breaking the ice with a bad pun only earned her a dirty look from Lena.

But what had devastated her more was when Callie, hearing her approach, tried to push away from Lena. Away from _her._

Deciding to persist, the cop knelt by Lena's side and wrapped the blanket around the both of them.

"It's fine," Lena said curtly. She was annoyed with herself for having asked Stef for help as she struggled to preserve their daughter's sense of safety—something her wife had threatened in the first place and was now managing to do again by continuing to hover.

Callie had become noticeably agitated when she had gotten too close and was now uncomfortably stiff, clinging even more tightly to her neck. It had taken a very long time to help her calm down and the thought of having to start over made her anxious for her wife to leave them alone. Her hips were now numb from the prolonged pressure of the hardwood beneath her and she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to maintain that position.

She was relieved when the doorbell rang, thankful she wouldn't have to figure out how to ask Stef to go without hurting her feelings. However, her irritation grew when the cop made no effort to leave. "I thought you might want a break," Stef explained with uncertainty when Lena glared at her.

Lena shook her head slowly and frowned in disbelief, stopping herself from rolling her eyes. _No,_ she mouthed emphatically.

"Stef. It's fine, I've got this." She kept the annoyance from her tone for Callie's sake. "You've done enough," she added coolly, despite seeing the hurt in her wife's expression.

When the door sounded a second time, she couldn't help but to attack. "Honey, please? A delivery person hasn't ever set foot in this house and I highly doubt they're going to start now."

Too overwhelmed by her emotions to speak, Stef bit down hard on her quivering lip. As she left, she wondered if Lena believed what she had promised Callie—whether everything would really be okay.

* * *

 **A/N:**

As many reviewers identified, the ripple effects of Stef's reaction will be far-reaching, with the reemergence of Callie's trauma being the most significant and how that will impact her relationship with the women. There is definite potential for legal ramifications to come into play as Stef and Lena are both mandated reporters. Callie's involvement with the juvenile justice system will also complicate matters and there won't be an easy answer.

My intention behind the scene with Stef losing patience was to show a reaction in a volatile situation after several stressors had already taken place. It was not at all meant to be a validation of her actions. I'm interested in showing her struggle as a parent, not so much in labeling things as right or wrong. From the outset, I didn't want to write an easy, feel-good story but rather one that's realistic and reflective of the complexities inherent in system-involved youth.

I also wanted to respond to the reviewer who raised concerns that Callie tends to be the one with more difficulties with Jude. I think this happens naturally; because of age difference, they would've likely processed and experienced trauma differently. Callie's worldview has also been shaped by juvie. Jude's issues will come to light in due time...patience, friend(s).

~b


	23. A Startling Rift

**Author Note:**

Hi everyone, sorry for the delay, I know some of you've been waiting. This chapter was not cooperating at all and it took me awhile to figure out why some parts were reading so awkwardly. Hopefully the longer chapter somewhat makes up for it. Rest assured, I won't abandon the story—it's my baby! We're about halfway in; I plan to start delving into some trauma and Jude will begin to have a slow entrance.

Thanks to **allycallie** for the specific regulation code. I would have never gotten it down to that level of detail. Also to **Lacorra** for helping me conceptualize _Lena the Meana_.

Hope you guys like it, ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 21:** A Startling Rift

Having finally convinced Stef to leave, Lena spent another hour comforting and wiping away her daughter's tears. Under the influence, Callie was emotionally disinhibited and hadn't wanted to let go of her. Hoping that her presence might allay some of her doubts and fears, Lena remained in place long after the girl's breathing had settled into a slower, regular rhythm.

She was thankful when Callie began to nod off in her arms. The weight of the slight frame hanging from her neck had become unbearable and she was desperate to get off the floor for some relief. Although she wasn't so keen on the early bedtime, she also wasn't entirely comfortable forcing Callie to stay up and sit through dinner when she could see just how physically and emotionally drained she was. Especially not after see how the girl had reacted to being near Stef.

"C'mon, my groggy girl. Don't crash now," Lena said softly when Callie yawned and slumped against her. "I don't want you to wake up in the middle of the night and have trouble falling back asleep. That's not great for your body." She let out an audible groan as she repositioned her legs and the circulation returned as pins and needles.

"Tell you what, lets get you into the shower and see if that helps. We'll reevaluate after," she proposed, kissing the top of the girl's mop head repeatedly to try and rouse her. She figured that she would be tucking her into bed afterwards, anyway, given how quickly she was fading. The only reason she didn't want to cave now was to buy some time to hopefully reduce the disruption on Callie's routine.

* * *

Try as she might, Lena couldn't understand why getting Callie into the bathroom was posing such a challenge. The girl, who she held close to her side walking down the hall, grew increasingly tense and tried to pull away—as if a switch had flipped when she recognized where they were heading. Just as they were about to step across the threshold, Callie grabbed the wall, stopping their movement.

"It's alright, take your time," Lena coaxed as the girl tried to catch her breath. She was now more confused than ever; Stef had told her about kiboshing Callie's stalling in the bathroom that morning but there had been nothing about it that sounded out of the ordinary. "I'm just going to wash your face and run the shower for you," she said, hoping that an explanation might help. Eventually, Callie let go, allowing herself to be steered toward the edge of the tub.

Noticing the bare towel racks, Lena sighed; she had put all of the towels in the laundry earlier and she could only hope Callie wouldn't react poorly to being left alone for a moment. "Sit right here, honey. Promise I'll be right back."

* * *

Callie was wearing a slightly worried expression when her foster mother returned with fresh towels that were still toasty from the dryer. The linen closet was adjacent to the ensuite and she knew that Lena would've needed to walk through the master bedroom to get there and back. She searched the woman's face cautiously, trying to gauge if she was mad before she averted her gaze.

Lena felt a pang of sympathy as she took in Callie's crestfallen demeanour and fidgeting. Wanting to give space, she took her time hanging up the towels and stacking the clean set of underwear and pyjamas onto the counter. She set the wooden stool in front of Callie and retrieved a basin from under the sink, filling it with warm water.

"It's just stuff," Lena reassured, giving the girl a knowing smile as she sat down. She soaked a new washcloth, wringing it out a few times before starting to wipe her daughter's face. She was certain that Callie's unease was tied to the state in which she had found the intimate space she shared with her wife but right now, her focus was on making sure Callie was okay. The other concerns would have to wait.

"Stuff is easy to clean up." She was careful to dab the areas around Callie's eyes and cheekbones, where the skin was chapped from the prolonged moisture.

"Hey…hush now. No more tears…" Lena soothed as Callie's chin began to tremble. She thumbed a few stray tears away, grateful when the girl didn't flinch from her hand.

"I know you're scared," she said gently. "And that you're probably a little worried, too." Callie's eyes flickered up to meet her's before falling. Had it not been for the unfortunate circumstances they found themselves in, Lena was sure she would've laughed; there had been a hint of attitude behind the look Callie had given her. The one all her kids had given her at one point or another and still did. _How come you have to be such a therapist?_

Lena continued, knowing she had her daughter's undivided attention. "But you have to remember that we are not sending you away. That's not something you need to be worried about, alright?" Her heart ached at Callie's obvious disbelief. "You are wanted. Don't you forget that. I'm going to tell you as much as you need to hear it, sweetheart," she said as she stroked Callie's cheek with her thumb, wishing for anything to be able to free the girl of her doubts.

" _You_ are part of this family," Lena emphasized. She groaned loudly as she got up from the stool to join Callie on the edge of the tub. "Somehow, you have to trust that things will get figured out—no matter how hard or hopeless things may seem. No matter what it takes or how long, we will figure it out together as a family."

"Okay," Callie whispered, giving a nearly imperceptible nod.

Lena made quick work of gathering the girl's messy hair into a bun. She cringed as she thought of the rat's nest it would be tomorrow morning but combing it out now was not a challenge she felt confident taking on.

"Leave this up. I don't want you falling asleep with wet hair," Lena said, fussing with the placement of the topknot. "Mom or I will help you wash it tomorrow." As she had ran her fingers through the bushy mophead, she found sections that were stiff and clumped, signs that the soap hadn't been fully flushed out. "Otherwise you're going to start attracting all sorts of friendly and not-so-friendly nectar-loving friends. But knowing my sweet girl, it'll probably be mostly honeybees," she teased, finally managing to elicit a smirk from Callie.

The overwhelming smell of berry smoothie shampoo and marijuana was an oxymoronic coupling. An illustration of the worrisome nature of choices being made by someone who was at an age where they weren't yet capable of washing their own hair properly.

"Is your heart still racing?" Lena asked as Callie shook her head. _No._

"Okay." She was starting to wonder how often and when these episodes were happening. As far as she knew, they usually only occurred at night. A consistent routine had been built around them as a result. In the panicked aftermath of a nightmare, Stef would sleep with Callie in the single while Mariana came into the queen bed.

"I need you to let Mom or I know if you start feeling like that again. It's really important so we can try to prevent it from getting worse," she explained. It was unclear how long the girl had been left by herself before Stef had interrupted her phone call, but the thought of Callie fighting the discomfort of panic alone saddened her.

A nod. _Affirmative._

"There were some pretty significant things that happened today, sweetheart. I promise you that we are definitely going to make it a priority to revisit all of these events," she said as Callie glanced at her cautiously. "For now it's probably best if we all take a bit of a breather and wait until we're all in a better headspace, though."

"I just wish that you had come to us before it got to a point where you got so stressed out that you needed to smoke," Lena said. There was no harshness or judgment behind her guess as to what had taken place. In her heart of heart's, she believed that there was always a reason behind every decision and she was determined to find out what was behind Callie's choices.

She pulled her daughter into her side and placed a firm kiss onto her forehead. "We will work on this. We are going to have to start communicating more with each other, Cal."

"Yeah," Callie agreed plaintively. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the reminder of what she had done.

Reaching around to fiddle with the taps, Lena tested the temperature of the water to make sure it wasn't too hot before engaging the shower. "I'm going to help you. Would that be alright?" Getting another timid nod, she moved back onto the stool so she could unhook the front clasps of Callie's overalls and unbutton the pairs at waist-level.

She was definitely coddling her daughter but couldn't help it. Having long suspected that Callie and Jude were used to meals, assistance, or attention of any kind being withheld as punishment, Lena wanted to make it clear that that wasn't the case in their home. She and Stef recognized a refusal to meet basic needs as a form of emotional abuse; however, she wasn't so sure that the kids did. Not with the way Jude still feared he wouldn't be fed even after the gentlest of redirection and how Callie was surprised to get lunch after lashing out at her over the loss of her guitar.

"Alright, you Bug. Into the shower with you," Lena declared, patting her on the knee before standing up. She unfolded the largest towel and held it out horizontally, looking away so Callie could undress and step into the tub. Though a little wary about giving the girl her privacy while so heavily fatigued, she left once she had picked up the laundry from the floor.

* * *

Her daughter's drowsy form soon stumbled into the bedroom. Lena suppressed a smile and shook her head sadly to herself as Callie piled the towels onto her desk; five minutes was a questionable amount of time to go through a complete shower routine. _They'd have to keep working on that_.

Hygiene had been an ongoing battle with the two siblings. A textbook example of children who had been abused trying to claw back control the only way they knew how. Jude actively resisted showers, holding the bar of soap under running water knowing that they would check if it was wet. They'd only figured it out when once he emerged from the bathroom, his hair and body completely dry but the soap suspiciously soggy. Things improved significantly once they figured out that the noise frightened him and switched him to baths, cajoling him with bubbles and allowing him to bathe every other day. All that was needed now was for one of them to sit in the bathroom with a timer to confine him in the tub for a good period and keep a lid on any funny business.

Callie was better at getting into the shower but was rarely thorough. After noticing that she would come out with suds still on her body, they started giving step-by-step directions from outside the door. Gradually, they decreased the cuing and finally allowed Callie to shower alone once she could go through the routine without any instructions three days in a row. Periodic checks were still required though, and they would step in whenever her feet got too dirty with soap scum and her hair too crusty.

"No worries. There's a towel down," Lena said. She laughed softly and gestured to the pillow. The girl had given her a discouraged look when she had been told that the hair to halfway up the back of her head was sopping wet.

She tucked Callie in before sitting down on the bed. That the young girl was starting to drift off at this hour showed Lena just how long the day had been.

Despite her mischief and insolent manner at times, it was easy for to see Callie as a vulnerable child who had been given the short end of the stick but was doing well in so many other ways. It was a tough road—trying to address the trauma she had been through, while correcting the behaviours borne out of it.

" _Lovebug_ …" She stroked her daughter's hair lovingly as she rested her other hand on top of Callie's. "Mom and I both love you so much—more than you'll ever now. I know that sometimes it's hard to believe but I need you to try. Whenever you have any doubts, I want you to think about challenging yourself to come to one of us so we can talk about it." The girl's trust in their bond, no matter how shaky, was probably the most important thing in helping all of them through this. She needed to start reinforcing that message.

Callie nodded. "'kay," she whispered, not knowing what else to say as the woman pulled the comforter up around her shoulders. "Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me for doing my job, Cal."

She heard the small voice filter from behind the door when she had nearly pulled it closed all the way. "Love you, too, Lena."

It'd been all but three words, but the very first time Callie had ever reciprocated with a declaration of her own. A lump formed in her throat, daring her to choke up.

She swallowed, barely managing to respond. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

* * *

"She's gone to bed," Lena said, glaring accusingly at her wife. She found herself even more irritated by the consternation on Stef's face when she looked past her with the expectation that Callie might appear. As if their daughter would be alright soon after Stef had turned on her.

"This early? She hasn't really had anything for dinner." The cop frowned, disappointed she wouldn't see Callie the rest of the evening. Though she had thought as much, she had set the table for three, remembering how the girl had turned down her offer to go out for an early dinner after the appointment. " _Lena likes it when we all eat together_." With guilt, she realized how upset Callie must've been if she was hiding.

"Eating is the last thing on her mind right now," Lena said with a distinct edge to her voice. She stormed over to the sink which was filled with dishes; there was no way she could tolerate being in close vicinity to Stef right now. Not when she herself felt betrayed, too.

"How is she doing?" Stef asked quietly after several minutes had gone by, not trusting herself to say anything before then.

"You were there. You know how she's doing," Lena bit back.

Stef sighed. She was exhausted from practically wrangling Callie all day and wasn't sure she had enough energy left for another argument. But she had also been down this road enough times before that she knew there was no avoiding this. And by _this_ she meant the version of Lena Adams Foster when she was an angry mother looking for a bone to pick.

"Love… please don't do this…not now."

Her wife ignored her, continuing to wash the dishes loudly. When the last plate was placed in the rack, she slammed the faucet shut and threw the sponge into the sink.

"What do you want me to say? That our daughter eventually cried herself out and that at one point she was dry heaving because she was crying so hard? Or that she refused to let go of me for the better part of an hour? I'm pretty sure she's afraid of me as well!" she snapped, incredulous that Stef had the gall to ask.

"What do you think this is going to do to Callie's sense of self worth?" Lena said impatiently, even more put off at seeing her wife's dismay. "Tell me that you did not really jeopardize Callie's trust and sense of safety and _self-esteem_ over a messy room and some pot! Do you recognize how ridiculous that sounds?"

After tucking Callie in, she had started picking up and restoring order to their belongings. Between the items scattered over the floor and the state of the dresser and closet, it hadn't been hard to put two and two together.

Lena blinked furiously, feeling herself close to tears. At this point, her foul mood was not only exacerbated by the situation but by sheer exhaustion. "What were you thinking?" she demanded.

From where she was sitting at the table, Stef looked down and gave her head a shake, both frustrated and discouraged by how little her wife thought of her. _When had they started working against each other, rather than together?_ Lately it felt as though all she did was defend her position when she was the one struggling with Callie. The nagging from Lena especially was not helping in any way but to add to her resentment and she was tired of it.

"I was thinking that it was disrespectful to us for her to act in total disregard of our rules again," the cop began, struggling to keep an even tone. "That we've read her the riot act _so—many—times_ this week yet it hasn't seemed to phase her in any way or motivate her to settle down. I was thinking that some of her actions were illegal and that she was reckless not just with her health but her safety! I was— _am_ so frustrated—"

"You should have walked away and come get me if you thought you were going to lose your temper on her. You know why? Because we promised them! We've been telling Jude and Callie that they're safe here, that we don't believe in hitting. Have you forgotten already that it took almost two months before they stopped jumping at every noise or if we moved too quickly toward them? These kids are traumatized from having been abused—"

"—For heaven's sake, _Lena,_ I didn't beat her black and blue. It was a spanking, if you can even call it that, _"_ the cop argued, well aware that a part of her was trying to convince herself that she had been justified. "I gave an explanation and swatted her with an open hand—it was intended to be a correction, not in any way a replication of the abuse she's been through. Yes, I was angry—and still am. But do not accuse me of taking it out on her!" She couldn't help but get her back up as Lena glared at her with a mix of derision and disbelief. "You cannot honestly tell me that how I disciplined falls into the same category."

"DON'T! Don't you argue semantics over this!" Lena hissed, furious that her wife had the gall to defend herself. "Spanking is hitting. It doesn't matter what your intentions were behind it. _CALLIE_ doesn't understand the difference. _No!"_ Stef had just opened her mouth to undoubtedly argue again and Lena wasn't going to have any of it. "She doesn't! If she did, let me tell you she would have reacted very differently than what I saw upstairs."

"She wouldn't have been that upset or scared," she added quietly, knowing that hearing it out loud would hurt Stef's feelings and magnify her guilt.

"Our role is to be patient. To help Callie understand why some choices are better than others so she can eventually make good ones for herself that are based on internal motivation, not because she's afraid of us or anyone else."

Stef scoffed loudly. "You're kidding me, right? Our daughter definitely understands right from wrong—that's not the problem. It isn't for lack of understanding that she's beyond deliberately disobedient."

Lena straightened, aggravated that her wife continued to defend herself on an issue she felt strongly about—one that they used to be on the same page about. "It doesn't matter. What you did is damaging. It boils down to using your authority over her to break her spirit more than it already is." Her voice cracked and she struggled to regain composure. "It's using intimidation to cow her into obedience. And that undermines all the work we've been doing to nurture trust and attachment. How do you not get that?"

"You don't think I get that I broke her trust and hurt her feelings? You think I _liked_ what I felt I had to do in that moment? It fucking sucked, alright? It sucks that your kid is terrified of you that she doesn't want you to come near you, that she probably won't want anything to do with me again! It sucks that she can barely look at me!" Stef shouted, beginning to cry at the memory of Callie quailing from her after being struck.

"She is barely thirteen years old. She's a _CHILD_ who thinks she can get away with running her own show because that's what she's been forced to do for years. She needs structure and consistency so she can learn that she's accountable to us and _accept_ that our rules need to be followed because that's in her best interest. That there are some things that are completely off limits."

"— _How_ was our daughter so reckless and wilful as you described that you thought you had no choice but to spank her? Explain it to me." The demand was harsh and unforgiving.

The cop took a deep breath, trying to force the waver from her words—she had no idea how she would be able to go over the events that lead to her losing her patience when it felt as though she hadn't processed it thoroughly.

"The alarm on the safe went off after I took the joint from Callie," Stef said, skipping over the part where their sweet child had blown smoke in her face. The tears sprung back easily as if letting her know that she was still rattled enough by the violation of safety.

"Somehow, she managed to figure out the code and unlocked it. Yeah. She went there." Her tone was unfortunate, almost sympathetic, as Lena's eyes widened and her expression changed into one of incredulity.

"At that point, I had no choice but to search her to make sure she didn't have a weapon on her. And the whole time I just…I kept hoping that she would listen and follow my directions," Stef explained. She remembered how overwhelming the thought of Callie refusing to cooperate was—which would have essentially twisted her arm into calling for backup and using more forceful methods to find out. Or if Callie did do what she was told and a gun or taser was discovered. Both scenarios would have lead to her arrest.

"I was so relieved when she was clear. But then I freaked out! I freaked out, okay? My mind was everywhere…I kept thinking of how she could've gotten hurt and wondering if she was angry with us and wanted to scare us, or was just curious. Or if Jude or Mr. Impulsivity were home and became curious and got hurt too!"

Tears dripped down Stef's face and chin as she articulated exactly what her thought process had been as things had threatened to fall apart. With a sense of guilt, she considered for the first time what it might've been like for the young girl who hadn't had such positive interactions with the police in the past.

"I'm sorry but that's pretty reckless in my books. I needed Callie to learn from it so she wouldn't do something like that again," she explained.

"I want her to get to a place where she makes good choices out of her own volition, too. Not because she's trying to avoid external factors," Stef said hoarsely. In the moment she had been convinced that Callie's short-sightedness and impulsivity called for consequences that were just as immediate and were better suited at sending a direct message. If she was being honest with herself, a part of her still felt that way.

"I don't know, Lena. At what point do short-term needs outweigh the long-term goals? We need her to abide by the rules right now. Insight and motivation both need time to establish, they're bound to come after."

Seeing her wife so visibly shaken, Lena believed her. The punishment hadn't been without reason; however, she still believed that Stef's attempt to teach a lesson had been wrong. "You can't pin this on Callie. She's counting on us to be the adults. You didn't have a choice about searching her, I understand that, but you did have one about what to do after that," she said. She shook her head sadly at what she had learned about their daughter's behaviour. The kerfuffle she had heard when she'd been on the phone made so much more sense now. _The shouting. The short period of silence followed by Stef's raised voice and Callie's wails of protest. Then, nothing._

"She's just started to trust us and now it's going to be very hard to get back to where we were, especially if she feels as though her safety has been jeopardized. We're supposed to be showing her that our love is unconditional and that she is safe to make mistakes in our home. Hitting was never the answer, Stef. No child—no one—deserves that, and Callie most of all didn't deserve that."

"Then what—what do you think our daughter deserved, Lena? Tell me what I should have done instead, what the right answer was, because I'm all ears. You're always the first to jump down my throat. Should I have extended her essay about the risks of smoking pot at such a young age? Or assigned her a new one about why gun safes need to remain locked and off limits to everyone but the rightful owner? _What?_ " she demanded, the anger clear in her voice. Her impatience was hitting a boiling point.

"I—I only have so much skill and patience, Lena!"

"So you decided to hit her because you couldn't think of anything better to do?"

"No, because we've tried everything else that's better to do!" Stef hated that she was having to defend herself as she got increasingly worked up. Her heart ached enough with how everything had ended without having her wife laying it on too.

"You should have left her and come get me."

"Trust me I wanted to!" the cop snapped. "I wanted to!" she yelled, momentarily forgetting that Callie was asleep. "Yes I made a mistake by not calming down and talking with you first but you cannot deny that this kid needs a bit of a wake up call to smarten up. Every single consequence we've given her equates to a slap on the wrist. It does nothing to deter her. You heard the way she spouted off at me! She has also lied to us, gotten herself a suspension, and is smoking and drinking. This is serious trouble she's getting into."

"She's not _giving_ you a hard time, she's _having_ a hard time!" Lena retorted.

"It doesn't mean she's above discipline!" Stef said in exasperation.

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth," Lena shot back dangerously. "I _never_ said that—never!" For the life of her she could not understand why her wife was continuing to defend her position and she'd just about had it. "I'm just as desperate and at a loss over what to do, but you're the one who works law enforcement! You know that DSS prohibits foster parents from using any physical means of correction. It's in the California Code of Regulations. Title 22, Section 89372! The state can nullify our petition to adopt both Callie and Jude and there's a chance we could lose our license."

"You don't think I've thought of that? We risk losing custody of Callie, anyway, if we aren't able to get her on track," Stef said, frowning. "The running off, truancy, suspension, drugs, accessing a gun. All of these violate the conditions of her release and unfortunately, at least one of those is a misdemeanour."

* * *

It had been one of their worst fights, one that rivalled the major disagreements she and Stef had had in the early days of learning to function as co-parents to Brandon. In the end, Lena had brought her own plate upstairs so she could eat in peace while cleaning up. Stef hadn't followed her and for that, she was grateful—had they stayed in the same room, she was sure they would've continued fighting. The last thing she wanted was for them to unintentionally wake Callie.

Now lying in bed, pillows piled high in the middle to separate her side from Stef's, the tears she'd been holding back finally spilled. Callie's actions had been unacceptable—but in her mind, so was the picture of the terrified girl who had desperately sought comfort from her.

 _"So mistreating her and scaring her into submission is the answer?"_

 _"Lena, please. Can you blame me? Maybe there is a part of me that does want Callie to have a little healthy fear of the consequences so we can get her on the straight and narrow. So she can stay with us and have a shot at a future instead of stagnating in custody! Because let me tell you that's where she's headed," she said urgently._

 _"The system is no place for her and you know it! It wasn't the right place then and it isn't now," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "It's unsafe and all the gains we've seen her made since coming to live with us would be erased and rewritten. I'd rather have her upset and HOME with US!" Stef shouted, hitting her palm to her chest. "—with a FAMILY that loves her. Instead of in THERE!"_

 _"I—I'm not willing to lose her so easily," Stef said tearfully. "Callie is safe to make mistakes with us. She may not get or accept that our love is unconditional but we'll show her. She might not understand now that we discipline her because we love her, not to be mean or to break her into submission—but with time she will."_

 _"Unfortunately she's also accountable to a whole lot of people who have jobs to do and have the power to remove her. Our hands will be tied if it comes to that because we don't have any say in what we think is best for her until the adoption is finalized and her probation ends."_

At being reminded of that detail, Lena's breath caught. Not only because her wife had a point but because she had conveniently pushed aside the details of her conversation with Bill.

Until now.

Callie was closer to running out of chances than she would have liked to believe.

* * *

 **A/N:**

What do you think is behind Callie's fear of Lena? Whose viewpoint do you agree with more?


	24. A Sense of Misgiving

**Author Note:**

Hey guys, hope you enjoy this next one. It was nice to return to writing from Callie's perspective after having her mostly go silent over the last few chapters. As many of you already suspect, she has a ways to go before finding her voice again.

Yes, she did tell Lena that she loved her for the first time in the last chapter and I agree that is a milestone.

Thanks to everyone who's reading, PM'ing, and reviewing. I love the questions and different perspectives that get brought up; they always stay with me when I'm shaping my content. **AchillesMonkey** , **AllyCallie** , **thesameguest** , **fadingreality** , **wallscollide** , **meyouthem123** , and **theypreferthetermpeople** have been extremely patient sounding boards as I work out the tone for the aftermath. It really feels like a team effort and honestly, that's what has made it so enjoyable to write IUW and what has helped me grow in the process.

* * *

 **Chapter 22:** A Sense of Misgiving

Callie squeezed her eyes closed, determined to claw back sleep. She faintly remembered Lena telling her that her night would get screwed up by going to bed too early. Still, she hadn't expected to be up at three thirty in the morning. It was still dark outside and the house was completely silent.

She really didn't want to wake up. Doing so would mean having to contend with the thoughts and feelings she wasn't ready to deal with yet.

Her body, however, had its own plans. Her pounding head signalled a sugar crash and her stomach felt as though it was folding in on itself. Worst of all, her sense of urgency was increasingly exponentially by the minute. Hoping to fight her bladder on this, Callie kept her legs crossed. Stef was an extremely light sleeper and she didn't want to wake her up this early on the weekend, something she knew would annoy the cop.

Quickly learning that her goal of not leaving the room was unrealistic, Callie crept to the bathroom. On the way back, she found a cereal bar that she had stashed in a bag under her bed. She laid back down and deliberated whether she should eat it. Neither women liked food outside of the kitchen or TV room, except when someone was sick, but she was starving. After listening to make sure they hadn't woken up, she decided to go for it, unwrapping it carefully so crumbs wouldn't get everywhere.

* * *

Slowly but surely, the familiar ache of disappointment and grief began to overwhelm her.

In the last few months, Callie had fought against her instincts, desperate to bury some of the doubts she had about the women. A part of her wanted to trust them whenever they insisted that their home was a safe place where she and Jude would always have their unconditional love and acceptance. That they'd go ahead with the adoption no matter what.

She had been surprised to learn that these things were important enough to her that she started to believe them, even though she wondered if things were going _too_ well to be anything but bogus.

Her disappointment was magnified even more now that she had gotten attached to these ideas and to the women—especially Stef. _She should've known better than to let herself do that._

Callie knew that she'd been pushing the women, raring to see if they were who they said they were. To test the integrity of their promises. But now that she'd discovered the truth, she was left reeling from the betrayal.

 _She had gone too far this time._ Stef had said in so many words that she couldn't live with them if she couldn't follow their rules. _"You're done acting this way…you're done,"_ she recalled her saying while they stood outside. Presumably, that meant that their relationship with finished. She was truly done screwing up because they had had enough and wouldn't hesitate to get rid of her.

But what Lena had said contradicted those very messages. In fact, she had told her not to worry about being kicked out because she was part of their family. Perhaps she had convinced Stef to change her mind while they were talking outside—to give her a few more chances to prove her worth. Maybe that was why Lena seemed so confident that she wouldn't be going anywhere. Her heart dropped as she was struck by the thought that she had managed to blow through one of those chances already.

Blinking away tears, she blew out a shaky breath. It was too hard to second-guess what Stef and Lena meant and she wished they would tell her exactly what to expect. Then again, if there was anything this experience had taught her, it was that nothing apart from instability was a guarantee.

It hadn't been the first time Callie had encountered foster parents who spanked. Most of the time, it would be for things she and Jude hadn't anticipated being a big deal. Accidents—spilling, breaking things, or ruining clothes. Forgetting to wipe the moisture on the bathroom mirror or missing a wet spot by the tub after a bath. Taking too long and wasting hot water. Being mouthy. Disagreements with the real kids. Taking anything from the kitchen outside of mealtimes. Doing anything that would raise Bill's suspicions during a visit. Admittedly, Jude's problems were more serious. For the longest time, he wet the bed on a nightly basis and couldn't wipe himself properly, which would leave a mess of his underwear and generally make laundry gross. He would routinely raid his classmates' cubbies whenever he went to the bathroom, resulting in calls to the parents and to Bill. All of these were punishable offences.

She remembered thinking of her foster parents as angry Jack in the Boxes, their anger spring loaded and pent up over the course of the day. Waiting for a hair trigger that would give them an excuse to take it out on any of the foster kids. Once they were set off, there was no going back. Countless times she had found herself face down and exposed before she could even identify the transgression that needed to be committed to memory.

What had happened with Stef hadn't been so bad.

The whole ordeal with Stef had lasted all but a few seconds and had been nothing like what she'd gotten before. There had been no objects…no blows that landed unpredictably. Even though Stef had been livid and yelled at her right before, she hadn't continued to scream at her while hitting her. Afterward, they had tried to make her feel better. This was an entirely new concept because her experiences before had parents who gave the silent treatment until they felt better. Once they did, the expectation was that everything returned to normal. They didn't want any crying. As if nothing had ever happened, even if your skin still felt like a burn.

The woman had only hit her a few times but it had still hurt. She remembered hearing the first slap before she had felt it—before the sound of the faraway whimper she later recognized as her own. How subsequent contact with Stef's hand had amplified into an unrelenting sting that had her crying out and desperate to escape. She felt completely embarrassed thinking about it now.

It hadn't been so bad, though. She had been struck hard enough that it stung but the discomfort had faded by the time Lena had found her.

What surprised Callie was how it'd hurt so much _more_ this time. Why it _still_ hurt now, as though the chaos of it all had moved inside of her.

She felt entirely out of control, all at once nervous and bitter. Almost as if consumed by a grief she never knew resided in her.

* * *

 _"Callie,"_ the cop called in a singsong tone as she walked across the girls' bedroom. She opened the curtains partway to let some light in—enough to brighten things up but not so much that it'd be jarring. Now well past ten in the morning, she was anxious to have the girl get up to eat something.

She began to pick stuff up from Mariana's side of the room, not bothering to be quiet about it. "Wake up, Cal. It's late," she said as the girl stirred and rolled before letting out a quiet snore. Stef groaned, wishing she had just come in when she heard Callie flush the toilet at around four.

Finally, she sat down on her daughter's bed, sipping her coffee while letting her thoughts wander.

 _God_ , she hated that their kid was doing pot. Marijuana today was nothing like the stuff she had experimented with growing up; growers had become better skilled at cultivating strains that would offer the fastest, strongest high. Whatever had been in that joint smelled extremely potent and she worried about Callie's vulnerability to adverse effects for picking it up at such a young age. In the bedroom, Callie had coordinated the joint and lighter with experience—not really looking like a teen who was trying to be cool—and she wondered if the girl had been truthful about only starting to smoke. Then again, Stef knew that the behaviour could've been picked up anywhere. She blamed the older foster sibling behind the dial-a-dope operation that had landed Callie in custody to put her mind at ease slightly.

As the cop had pointed out to Lena in the heat of their argument yesterday evening, she still saw Callie as a child who was highly impressionable. She was twelve when she had entered their home, only celebrating her thirteenth birthday a couple months into the placement.

Asleep, the girl looked even younger. Callie still had ample baby fat on her cheeks that caused her mouth to hang slightly open when her face rested against the pillow. The matted hair and dirty, chewed up fingernails were reminders that she could barely manage her self care. Her training camisole was visible from under her pyjama top, a reminder of their last visit to the children's family doctor, who had raised concerns over previous malnourishment delaying puberty. She and Lena had left the appointment armed with instructions to monitor and encourage weight gain by introducing healthy sources of fat and protein.

Like Dr. Wiseman had explained, it was true that Callie was leagues ahead in certain areas of development because she had been catapulted into situations most adults wouldn't have a concept of. In other areas, however, she was immature and behind when compared to Mariana. Their youngest daughter was already obsessed with shaving, tinted lip balm, teen magazines, and her latest endeavour—developing boobs.

 _"Mama! Mom! I think they're growing!" their tween yelled as she ran across the backyard. Holding her shirt open for them, she beamed as she stuck out her chest. "I'm ready for a bra!"_

 _"Mariana!" both women cried at the same time, trying hard to hide their amusement. Though they were happy that their daughter was so confident with her body, they were slightly horrified at what seemed to be her only goal as of late._

"Come on sweetness. Time to wake up," Stef murmured, gently brushing the hair back from Callie's face until she finally roused and rolled to face her.

"Hi," Callie said hoarsely. She smiled at the cop through bleary eyes before memories of the previous day came flooding back. Quickly, her expression turned and she stared at Stef fearfully as though she'd just awoken from a nightmare.

"Hey Sleepy-bones," the cop said sympathetically as Callie gripped her blanket more tightly. "It's getting pretty late in the morning. I don't want you to oversleep any more than you already have," she explained.

"Sorry…I can—I mean—I'll get up now," the girl responded in a shaky voice. Her face reddened as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets without much success.

Stef felt her heart constrict in her chest at her daughter's reaction as she went to help her. Focused on the tangled heap, Callie failed to notice her hand closing the distance between them until Stef had gotten too close. Her daughter winced, reinforcing what she already knew—that the girl was afraid of her. However, she continued doing what she was doing, determined to mask her own dismay as much as she could to show Callie that she wasn't a threat.

"How are you doing?" she asked gently as Callie sat up. She shifted back on the bed and recrossed one leg under her, hoping that a little more space would help her daughter feel more at ease.

Callie's response barely came out above a whisper. "Good." She nodded as confidently as she could, trying to convince herself of the lie she was uttering. The one she was certain Stef could see right through.

The cop suppressed a sigh, immediately regretting the way she had asked and berating herself for not knowing what the answer would be. Even though Callie was looking down, in the daylight it wasn't hard to see just how puffy and watery her eyes were. The swelling extended all the way down her cheekbones and past her temples, signs that she'd been crying for quite a long time. And recently, too, judging by the large, wet patch on the pillowcase.

She knew that her daughter was anything but okay.

Callie sat there, feeling foolish and unsure of herself. _She couldn't understand why things suddenly seemed so awkward between them._

"What's that you've got there, Cal?" she heard her foster mother ask. Her stomach flipped as she followed the woman's line of sight and saw what it was that Stef was referring to. The plastic foil wrapper from the cereal bar was sitting in plain sight on her bed. "Just garbage…" she said quietly, regretting that she hadn't tucked it under her pillow instead of the blankets. Because of that, she had managed to break a rule again only a few hours since she had promised herself she would do better.

It was hard to see Callie as a bundle of nerves. Glancing at the woman with a worried look, she immediately picked up the wrapper and crumpled it into her fist. Stef smiled warmly as she held out her palm, patiently waiting for Callie to make the next move. She did not miss the shakiness in the girl's hand when she finally placed it into her outstretched hand.

"This is full of sugar, honey…" Stef pointed out, smoothing out the creases so she could scrutinize the nutritional information. Unable to recognize it, she frowned, sure that Lena would've never allowed anything this processed into the house.

"And almost two years past its expiry date," she commented, unaware of how much it sounded like she was criticizing. It wasn't until she noticed Callie hanging her head that she realized these were non-issues. Her daughter was hungry and hadn't been comfortable helping herself to the food in the house.

"I know that you must be hungry. You're running on a single meal from yesterday," the cop suggested as Callie looked at her reluctantly. "Mama and I would've been more than happy to make you something, no matter what the time—you know that right?"

"I know that it's important to you to be considerate and that's why you don't like to wake us up," she ventured, choosing her words carefully. "But it's our job to help you, Cal."

"You know that you can go downstairs at any time to get something to eat our of the pantry as well," Stef continued. "At the very back of the third shelf are those crackers with fake cheese and the red plastic spreader stick." She winked, hoping to crack a smile from Callie. However, her daughter simply appeared bewildered as she glanced at the doorway for the third time.

"Mama's just downstairs working on brunch," she explained, suspecting the girl was hoping Lena would walk down the hall. "It seems that everyone else also decided to sleep in this morning at Grandma's so we're having a bit of a late start. They'll be back soon," she said, seeing how bereft the girl was. Neither she nor Lena had told Callie about their decision to send everyone off to her mother's and she was regretting not making the time for it. Only now did she appreciate how that might have been interpreted.

"We weren't excluding you, Bug," she said. "When we couldn't find you, we needed all hands on deck. We weren't sure when you'd be back and in the meantime, Grandma offered to pick everyone else from school and take care of our dinner so we could look for you. It got late and they stayed the night. I promise, there will be many more opportunities for sleepovers with the other kids," she continued. "I'm so sorry we didn't explain that to you," Stef apologized. "It must've been hard to not know where Jude or everyone else was."

"It's okay," Callie lied. She had only realized that the other kids weren't home when had first woke up and found Mariana's bed empty. "Sorry I worried you," she added quietly, fidgeting with her hands. She had missed Jude, of course, but understood that it was probably for the best that he hadn't been around when everything went down yesterday. Unlike her, her little brother was doing so much better at blending in with this family and she didn't want to be the one holding him back.

Still, part of her disappointment was the fact that she had missed out. She liked Sharon, _a lot._ The woman was the oldest person she knew and was so unlike what Callie had ever expected of someone her age: warm, eclectic, and vivacious.

"It's alright, honey. Thank you for your apology," Stef said sincerely. "We'll have lots of time to talk things over later. But first let's get something in your stomach, okay?" The girl's stomach had just let out another extended squeal, causing her to try to hide the noise by shifting the blankets.

She smiled encouragingly as Callie's eyes flitted nervously up at her. "What will it be? Toast or fruit?" she proposed, hoping that being forced to choose would give her daughter a voice.

Callie frowned as she chewed her bottom lip. "Either's good," she finally answered with uncertainty, confused as to why the woman cared that she was hungry.

"Alright. Toast or fruit can be arranged." Stef winked at her daughter, hiding her concern at the sudden timidness. Just as when Callie had first moved in, she was too shy to ask for what she wanted.

"Come on. Up and at 'em."

* * *

The two of them sat across from each other at the table. Now that Callie had polished off some cheese toast, Stef was armed with an apple and a paring knife. In front of the girl sat a dollop of peanut butter in a bowl. Every so often, Stef would carve a slice of fruit off and pass it to the girl who would dip it into the spread. It was a drawn out process but one that would allow them to talk while giving Callie something neutral to focus on.

Stef was happy to see the girl eating, although she was holding back on the peanut butter. Every few wedges, Callie would glance at the partially cut apple and then the bowl, trying to suss out how much she could double dip without running out. Determined to nudge her away from the insecurity, the cop placed another spoonful into the bowl. It was only then that Callie appeared to feel a little more generous with the amount she'd scoop with each slice.

"Two junior cheeses _and_ McNuggets, hey?" Stef began.

Callie froze. She swallowed her apprehension before letting her gaze flicker up to meet her foster mother. Although Stef's eyebrows were furrowed, she also noticed her smile, giving the impression of exaggerated annoyance rather than one of irritation.

"Lucky girl." Stef softened her gaze, understanding her daughter's cautiousness. "Hey, you know how Mama feels about fast food. I know to take full advantage on the odd occasion I get to go to McDonalds, too," she continued, hoping that some lighthearted teasing would put Callie at ease. The girl looked especially on edge.

"What was that?" Lena called, causing their daughter's attention to dart over to her. She had just finished rolling the quiche shell into the Pyrex and was now poking holes into it.

The cop winked. "Exactly my point." Callie's wariness was not missed on her and she was torn between giving her the space she obviously wanted and pushing through. She and Lena hadn't talked to Callie about her behaviour yet, but they both felt that she needed to try to make things right with their daughter before they would even go there. They couldn't leave this unresolved.

"I was worried when we missed you at dinner last night, honey," she said. "I heard that you'd been pretty tired and that you went to bed early."

The woman ducked her head and looked at Callie knowingly. "I'm guessing that you probably felt a little foggy, too. Like maybe it was hard to think or move?" she questioned, smiling softly.

Unsure of where her foster mother was heading with this conversation, Callie nodded.

"Do you still feel this way or is it gone now?"

"Gone." The girl's tone was hushed. Uncomfortable.

Now it was Stef's turn to nod. "Good." She paused, uncertain of how to steer the discussion. "Are—are you hurt?" she asked gently. The subdued child they had spent so much time and effort pulling her out of her shell had returned overnight.

Callie looked at her nervously and swallowed. Unsure of how to answer, she shoved another bite in so all she'd have to do was to shake her head.

That Callie wasn't giving her much in the way of responses didn't phase her in the least. Having contended with an extremely shy Mariana who barely spoke a word, Stef had been forced to be comfortable carrying on one-sided conversations. The preschooler had turned out to be quite the little chatterbox so opportunities for practice had been cut short. However, that skill of hearing yourself talk out loud while letting go of the expectation of an answer—without feeling foolish—had never left her.

* * *

"Yesterday was a huge mess, wasn't it?" Stef drew in a shaky breath before letting it out.

"I— I owe you an apology, love. I let my frustration get the best of me and punished you when I was angry…instead of walking away to calm down first," she said sincerely. "No matter how upset I was, that was wrong. I want you to understand that."

Callie stared at the apple slice she had in her hands dejectedly. It was half gone but she couldn't bring herself to take that last few bites; once she did, she'd have to accept the next piece which would mean making some eye contact. However brief it'd be, she couldn't do it. She hated what had happened yesterday and she hated that they were talking about it when all she wanted was to delete the entire day from her memory.

"Mama and I promised you that we do not hit in this house and I'm so sorry I went back on that, Callie. I cannot imagine how you must feel right now." The cop cleared her throat, unsure of why her confidence was shot.

"This was something we should have discussed first—calmly, and the three of us together. I made a huge mistake letting that slip my radar. You deserved fair warning about what was going to happen, much more than what I gave you. I knew I was going to change things up but that was completely unfair to you, to expect you to suddenly understand and accept that, too."

Lena stood at the counter, listening intently. During yesterday's fight, they had disagreed on what the apology to their daughter should look like. While she had wanted Stef to apologize for everything, including the actual punishment, her wife strongly believed that it had only been wrong for the circumstances it had occurred under and that the spanking itself had been warranted.

In the end, she had conceded that she needed to give Stef space and the support to do what she felt was right. It'd been tough to admit that she had been more than happy to let Stef take the lead on discipline when it came to Callie while she took on Jude.

The division had happened almost naturally. The boy, being the shyer of the two, feared Stef and gravitated towards Lena. Perpetually anxious to make mistakes, he responded better to Lena's gentle redirection. Callie had also been compliant, wanting to please both of the women at the beginning. However, as she began to challenge the limits they set for her, it was clear that Lena's approach wasn't as effective with her. Though the girl put pressure on Stef relentlessly, at the end of the day she still feared the cop, giving them an advantage when Callie was being especially difficult.

Lena knew that for consistency's sake, her wife needed to be the one to talk to Callie about the consequence as she saw fit. Right now, consistency and a united front were the most important things, even if she disagreed with Stef on the specifics.

"I see so much of my job as a parent to be the one to keep you kids safe…but it doesn't feel like I've been doing a good job at it," she admitted.

Callie met her gaze, unable to hide her surprise. No adult had ever apologized to her before or admitted their insecurities and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"When I found out you had gone into the safe… I just got so scared thinking about how you could have gotten hurt. All that was running through my head was to snap you out of it so you would stop and listen to me. To teach you a lesson so you wouldn't _ever_ consider putting yourself in danger like that again," Stef said. Her tone was gentle but held a hint of sternness.

"At that point, that outweighed everything else, even if it meant breaking a promise. It was shortsighted and the truth is that I wasn't thinking about your feelings," the woman confessed. Her voice broke as she recalled the image of Callie pulling away from her and crying inconsolably, now an indelible memory in her mind. "I'm sorry that I didn't consider how hurtful my actions would be. I didn't mean to scare you, baby. That was not my intention at all."

"Does that make sense?" she prompted, taking in the girl's downcast eyes and fidgeting. "I love you so much, sweetheart. I don't know what we would do without you."

Throughout their conversation, she had been watching the teen carefully, looking for any sign of her feelings. However, Callie appeared to be lost. She was slowly returning to her old tendencies of closing herself off so she wouldn't get hurt again.

"Yeah. I get it," Callie whispered unconvincingly. "I'm sorry I made you mad," she ventured, getting the sense that the cop wanted to hear something more from her but also not wanting to say the wrong thing that would make her upset.

Stef's heart sank. She still wasn't sure if Callie truly grasped the magnitude of her actions but she also wasn't going to address any of that now. This was about showing their daughter that she was worthy of respect and trying to take the first steps towards rebuilding trust. The long talk about actual behaviour and consequences would come later.

"Oh, honey…" she exhaled. She couldn't help but to become emotional when she saw the frightened, bewildered expression on the girl's face. "You don't have to apologize for my emotions," she said gently, glancing at Lena in case she floundered. "Do you remember what I said to you the other day?"

The youth frowned. Stef said a lot of things and it wasn't easy to remember it all.

The woman suppressed a laugh. Of course, Callie wouldn't remember. She felt like she had lectured for three days straight while wondering how much of it had left an impression.

"We are all entitled to have our feelings—that's okay and perfectly normal. But how we feel is no excuse for disrespect. I was upset with you, I was angry—that you are right about, Callie. But that did _not_ make it okay that I didn't treat you with full respect. It was not okay that we didn't talk about what I felt needed to happen. I needed to make sure you understood exactly why I was going to spank you and I didn't do that. You deserved better."

"I—I gave you a hard time over losing my trust but I know that I lost your's too, kiddo. Think we can be patient with each other as we start to earn that trust back?"

"Okay," Callie replied despondently, feeling her cheeks flush. She looked nervously at Lena as the woman came to sit with them.

Lena hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Honey… I'm sure you've already figured out that there are some long chats in our future," she said softly as she gave Callie an apologetic smile. Their daughter looked so contrite that for a moment she wanted to believe that she was really sorry. Somehow, her gut told her differently.

"But your feelings are important, too. I don't want you thinking for a _second,_ Callie, that just because you are in trouble with us that we do not want to hear from you. If you're scared or ashamed or angry with us for what happened at any time yesterday or the days before, we want to hear about it, okay? Please don't bottle them up. We would never be upset with you over how you feel."

Callie tried to hide her doubt over what she was hearing. She wanted so much to believe Stef and Lena but she couldn't. For awhile, she'd gotten a little too comfortable and let her guard down, getting burned as a result.

"Please don't hide from us, ladybug…" Lena continued when the girl didn't respond, desperate to engage her in any possible. "We can't help if we don't know what's going on."

"Mama's right, you know. As much as we like hearing ourselves talk, there's only so much we can do," the cop said, keeping her tone playful. "Plus, I suspect you had quite the adventure yesterday and I bet we don't know half of it!" She raised her eyebrows in mock sternness as she smiled at Callie.

Her comment managed to draw a shy smile from Callie before her expression became somber once again. It would take more than one conversation or a day to get through to her, but Stef hoped that this was a good start. She needed to believe in that—even though she worried about if and when Callie would let her back in. Especially when she was still wrestling with her own doubts over if she'd done what was best for Callie.

She just hoped that her hunch was right—that regardless of the way things were now, that it'd be worth it in the long run.


	25. Those Difficult Conversations

**Author Note:**

Hi everyone. I got an error the first time I tried so hopefully things are working alright now. Enjoy! ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 23:** Those Difficult Conversations

Stef watched her daughter's face fall as Lena told her that she would need to be with them at all times, except for when at home or in class. Indefinitely. An expert at managing students, Lena had been fierce in delivering the consequences. Lunches and breaks would be spent in the main office. As well, Callie would now need to sign in and out when she arrived in class and each time she left so any absences would be immediately flagged. It was extremely restrictive but the only one they could think of to discourage her from running, which they couldn't risk happening again.

The hardest part had been explaining the Parole Officer's concerns over the noncompliance with her conditions. In light of recent issues, he wanted to know what strategies were being implemented in her current environment to reduce the risk of breach of parole and to support her in being able to remain in the community. That was why the consequences extended to school. Bill, who had advocated for Callie to be kept out of a group home, now faced pressure from both the PO and his Supervisor to deliver. It'd be tough to balance disclosing enough to show Callie how serious her predicament was while keeping it age appropriate so they wouldn't scare her needlessly.

"I know you want your independence, Callie—and we'll talk about what that can look like exactly. But right now, this is what Mama and I are comfortable with," Stef said.

"I'm sorry, honey," Lena said apologetically. "They just want to see that we're helping you follow the rules." She, too, had seen the girl's disappointment as she described how things would be for the foreseeable future. Callie had remained silent the whole time and she wondered how angry their daughter was with them, but she was also relieved by the lack of argument. For the first time, it seemed like they had her undivided attention.

"We're only doing this because we care about you and have your best interests in mind," Lena pressed, losing confidence at Callie's low spirits.

"Sweetheart…" Stef began when her wife glanced worriedly at her. "Being a good parent means that sometimes Mama and I have to do things you won't like us for because it's for your own good. Those decisions need to come before your happiness. I know it sucks, Cal, but that's just the way the cards land. You've _got_ to trust in that even if you don't agree or understand why we're doing something."

"You've been playing with fire, love. I'm not sure you understand how quickly things can get out of hand if you continue down this road," Stef said, struggling with her words. As a minor, Callie's safety and wellness were a priority while in their care. They wanted to see her reach her potential and grow into someone she could be proud of. But it felt like they hadn't been doing a good job at it lately.

"They can argue that because you're not following the rules, you need more monitoring. You could be placed in a group home or be ordered back to juvie." _And that would damn well kill me,_ she thought. She felt terrible for harping on about this as Callie's expression filled with sadness and worry, but the pressure to get her in line was overwhelming. If there was ever a time to get her cooperation, it was now.

"I _know_ you don't want that and we're willing to do whatever it takes to keep you out of there, even if it means having you upset with us."

Though it hurt to think of, Stef meant it—right now it didn't matter if Callie hated her. Consequences at home were benign compared to being taken back into custody.

"Please, _please_ , take this seriously. The running away and the drugs need to stop. Please make the good choices we know you are more than capable of," the cop begged. "We love you. You know that right? We love you and nothing you do will ever change that but you _need_ to listen."

"Okay…I'm—I'll try harder," Callie stammered, wanting to prove she had heard what they'd said. She fiddled with the hair tie around her wrist as she thought about how everything had sucked since yesterday and that she didn't want to be in trouble anymore.

Stef and Lena exchanged tired, knowing glances. They wanted to believe their daughter, they really did. However, they had doubts whether Callie truly understood where they were coming from—instead telling them what she thought they wanted to hear to get them off her back.

They'd find out soon enough. As much as they knew Callie wanted space, they weren't planning on giving it to her. It was apparent from how skittish and polite she'd been when Stef tried to talk to her before that her sense of security had been destroyed. The last thing they wanted was to leave her alone, letting the negative thoughts percolate. They didn't want Callie to feel as though they'd given up on her because of how she had acted.

They also feared that if they let her go now, she'd have a chance to rebuild some of the walls that had broken yesterday. That wasn't what she needed. She needed to talk and to really hear them, which was much easier when she wasn't focused on fighting. Now that she was down, they actually had a chance at getting through.

* * *

Much to Callie's dismay, their discussion was far from over. Her worries had been building since learning that Bill would be coming over and she was trying hard to hide her feelings. Although the women had been careful in what they said, she was astute enough to know that she was really in shit now.

Getting their daughter to crack was exactly what Stef and Lena wanted. They wanted her to take ownership of her behaviour by having her identify where things had gone awry and describe her reasoning behind her choices. This would allow them to suss out her level of understanding and help show what could've been done instead.

"Alright," Stef said tiredly. "Let's try something new. Why don't you tell us what you think were some things that went wrong yesterday?"

The teen's gaze flitted nervously between the two women. "I broke a lot of your rules," she said in a small voice. She gulped as she waited to see if that was acceptable. When the cop only nodded in encouragement, she realized they wanted more.

"I ran away," she began after taking a deep breath. "I went through your things and— went in your safe when it wasn't allowed. I— smoked pot in your house when you said not to do that anymore," she listed off. Her voice pitched after each indiscretion.

"I was really disrespectful…I—I said the F-word at you…and didn't listen when you told me to do stuff. I threw my pop at you," Callie said guiltily. The more she came up with, the more discouraged she felt. Her ears burned with embarrassment at having to rehash everything for Lena. "I didn't listen when you told me to show you what was in my pockets and... thenIblewsmokeinyourface," she mumbled.

Lena raised an eyebrow. Stef hadn't told her that part. Though she had already heard about most of the misbehaviour, hearing her daughter own up to it somehow drove home its seriousness. Still, she was concerned by how bereft the girl appeared—how dreadfully earnest she was being in doing what she was told. Callie's chest was heaving silently and tears appeared imminent.

"Honey, this is as much your home as it is our's," she clarified, addressing what had worried her the most about her daughter's confession. "That's why we have the same expectations for you as everyone else in this family."

Stef smiled fondly as the girl gave Lena a sad nod. Their stubborn child was trying, and that mattered—a lot. As she and Lena had discussed, there was only so much they could do. Without Callie's buy in, it had been nearly impossible to get her to cooperate by their rules.

Despite her conflicted feelings over what she had to do to get there, Stef was proud of her daughter for how easily she recognized what she'd done wrong. Before this, it always felt like they were strong-arming her into acceptance—only so they could get her to grudgingly go along with what they wanted.

It was as she had suspected—Callie knew right from wrong. The issues were partly defiance—refusing to accept she was accountable to them—and an inability to make good decisions under duress.

"What do you think of what you've just told Mama and me?" Stef prompted.

Callie shook her head tearfully. "I really messed up. I—I'm sorry," she said with genuine remorse.

The cop nodded approvingly. "I know, love. You don't have to apologize anymore—you're forgiven. We're not upset with you." She paused, unsure of what she could say to make this conversation easier on their daughter.

Stef let the words sit, debating how to guide the conversation forward. She and Lena had decided that it would be best if she continued dishing out tough love since Callie was already mistrustful of her. Until time would help mend their relationship, she needed someone she could go to if she needed help and currently, Lena was that person. It was terrible, but the alternative—having her be wary of both of them—was worse. Stef had to be content being in Callie's bad books for now.

"But you know that we need to talk about this, right?"

"Your behaviour yesterday was not okay on so many levels," Stef gently scolded. "You deliberately disobeyed us. We've already talked at length about pot being an unhealthy choice and you know better than to be disrespectful so I do not think we need to belabour these points any more than we already have." She was no longer frustrated but was far from impressed with the girl's decision-making. "We do need some better rules to help us be respectful, though."

Callie swallowed. _Belabour?_

The cop steadied her resolve against the twinge of guilt she felt when Callie glanced at her fearfully. "It's okay, Bug. They're more reminders for me, too," she reassured, glad when her daughter perked up. "We're both going to agree to them because I'm just as responsible for escalating our fights as you are and there is no excuse for that."

"Okay," Callie said tonelessly.

"Alright. When you're upset, Mama and I want you to try to think about something better to say than the first thing you want to say. See if you can think of a different way to say what comes to mind right away because the first thing probably won't go over so well."

"The other one to remember is to take two full breaths and one step back when you want to get in my face or you think you might do something you might regret. I'm going to do this as soon as I want to start yelling," Stef offered. "Am I clear?"

Callie nodded compliantly.

"One more thing. Owning up to what you've done before we find out will _always—always, always—_ lead to less problems than if we find out you weren't being truthful. And we _will_ find out," the woman reminded. "Lying can buy time but when your luck runs out, that's when we get frustrated and you end up in a crap—"

Her wife shot her a withering glare before she could finish her point.

"Hm. Careful with laughing at your mother," Stef said at seeing Callie's shy smile. She waited, wanting some of the tension to fade before continuing her efforts to nurture the girl's long-term thinking.

"I get that it's a scary place to be in, I do, sweetheart. But it's not a good place to be. Not only are you then in hot water for whatever you're covering up but for lying as well. You'll never get in trouble for coming to us. Make sense?" she prompted.

"Yeah," Callie agreed, saying what she knew was expected of her. She had definitely lied to the women when she knew it was wrong…but somehow, it seemed like the truth hardly ever mattered.

* * *

"Now, about the running away. We can't have you taking off like that. It's not safe," Stef admonished. She cringed inwardly, knowing her wife wouldn't like what she would learn next. "Especially where you ended up. The port is extremely isolated and it wasn't safe for you to be there alone," she said as Lena listened with her mouth agape.

At hearing the sternness in her foster mother's voice, Callie felt her stomach flop. "Sorry," she apologized.

"Did something happen at the session with Dr. Wiseman?" Lena questioned, remembering how defensive the girl had been the first time she asked when Mike had brought her home.

"No. It was good," the girl replied, unsure of what else she could possibly say.

Callie's body language, however, made her words anything but convincing. As stubborn and as spirited she could be at times, lying was something she was not well versed in. Arms held close to her body, Lena noticed Callie begin to repeatedly squeeze her hands together in a self-pacifying gesture to deal with her discomfort.

Stef also knew better than to accept her daughter's words at face value. _Good_ was the last thing to come to mind to describe how the first part of the session had went. Instead, Callie had been moody and stubbornly avoidant during the assessment, participating only when strong armed into the truth. When it came time for her to leave, her daughter had been unable to conceal her distress. Judging by her subdued demeanour when she finally appeared in the waiting room, Stef surmised that things had only deteriorated from there.

A part of her blamed Gisella Wiseman. Their girl was an open book and Stef found it hard to believe that there hadn't been obvious signs that things were breaking down. Had the psychologist failed at redirecting their discussion, pushed too hard, or had she missed the signs altogether?

However, Stef accepted that she wasn't without fault for how things had played out. She'd been so convinced that one-to-one was the right answer that she hadn't even considered how leaving the session probably came across. In hindsight, she wished she had found out if the transition could've been made gradually to ease Callie in while helping to establish some trust between the two. Even if Dr. Wiseman had refused, at least it would've shown Callie that her worries were being considered instead of giving the impression that they were dismissing her completely.

Lena decided on a more direct approach this time. "Why did you run, honey?" she asked gently.

Callie looked down at her hands, trying not to become flustered as she struggled to find a suitable reason. Ideally one that wouldn't get her in more trouble but also wouldn't lead to any more talking. It was all they'd done today and she was becoming exhausted at having to be hypervigilant around the women. Her head was pounding to the point of nausea now and for some reason, she felt jittery and feverish.

She had no idea what to say. She had already tried to tell them that she hadn't meant to go as far as she did and that hadn't gone well. Saying that she wanted to get some air outside and then ended up further than she wanted to because she went on autopilot probably wouldn't fly, either.

Plus, she knew what Stef thought, remembering how the woman had lit into her. _"You don't run away because you didn't get your way!"_

She hadn't run away to spite them for making her go to Dr. Wiseman's but she was sure that there was no way they'd believe her and she was done fighting for her truth.

"I guess…I wanted to stick it to you for making me go when I didn't want to," she stuttered, trying to convince herself of the lie. She smiled painfully as the sleeping butterflies in her belly took flight in droves. Inside, she felt rotten though she had responded the way she thought Stef wanted her to. They had just said that they didn't like lying…

Hearing the explanation left the women discouraged for it was just about as far from the truth as it could possibly be. Throughout the morning, they had been careful not to show any impatience or annoyance in order to encourage Callie to talk. This felt like another setback.

The women remained quiet for a moment, pondering how they could encourage Callie to open up to them about what had really happened.

"Okay. And did that line of reasoning turn out the way you thought it would?" Stef responded calmly. Out of respect for their daughter, she decided that they needed to run with it. It wasn't fair to expect her to trust them completely just because she was told to. They needed to show her that they had enough faith in her to give her a chance.

Callie shook her head, hoping she hadn't given them another reason to be upset with her.

"You know better than that, love," Stef pleaded. "You scared us half to death by putting yourself in an unsafe situation. I never thought I would be so happy at the sight of one of my kids being brought home in a squad car," she said playfully. She ducked her head to try to catch her daughter's gaze but her efforts only caused the girl to become even more nervous and turn away from her. Although Callie wouldn't budge, they still needed to find teachable moments in what she had disclosed, whether true or not.

"Hey. Look at me, please. This is important," Stef said, relieved when she finally succeeded in getting Callie to peer at her.

"You're alright," she reassured, smiling warmly at the girl.

"Try to remember that there's always a way to be responsible—even if you've made a decision you shouldn't have. I'm serious, Cal. I truly hope you don't ever do something like this again but if you find yourself in a similar situation, you need to call us as soon as you walk past _anywhere_ or _anyone_ you can ask for a phone. A storefront, reception, another parent. So we can come get you. We'll give you space if you're that angry with us but running off without telling us is never okay," the cop urged.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah," Callie mumbled. The woman's gaze was soft but she was having trouble reconciling it against the sternness of the words.

The cop took a deep breath before continuing. "Sweetheart, I shouldn't have pushed you in there. You weren't ready to share and I should've respected your space. I was so focused on having you do what Dr. Wiseman wanted instead of being there for you. That wasn't right. I can see why it looks like I took her side…why I helped her."

"I—I didn't mean to screw you over," Stef said apologetically, validating what her daughter had screamed at her outside.

Callie's voice was nearly indistinct. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh, my love…of course it matters." The young girl's dismissiveness of her olive branch had left her disconcerted.

This time, there was no acknowledgement.

Noticing Callie beginning to withdraw into herself, Lena stepped in. "It's not easy to talk to someone you don't know," she empathized, knowing how much her daughter disliked appearing vulnerable especially around strangers. "I know how much you didn't want to go and Mom and I are so proud of you for giving it a chance, even if you were angry about it," she praised. "Dr. Wiseman mentioned that you participated well during your time with her."

"Do you think you might want to try to go back?" she asked as her daughter chewed nervously on her bottom lip. "You can tell us how you really feel about her," Lena encouraged despite being fully aware that the girl wouldn't share. "Mom and I can find out if there's any way we can stay with you the entire time if that's what you still want," she offered.

Callie tried not to frown as the urge to kick something bubbled. She was so frustrated and confused. Why were they suddenly giving choices that had never been on the table before? Asking for her opinion felt like an afterthought. "Um. She's okay…" she finally managed. "I'm good with anything."

"Bug…" Stef said sympathetically at seeing the girl's discouragement. After everything that had happened, she really thought Callie would've jumped at the chance to stop going. At the same time, it was clear why she didn't want to go against them.

"Really, honey, you don't have to go if you don't want to. We'll take a break or find something else," she said as Callie only closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Why don't you sleep on it?" Lena suggested. "There's no reason you need to make a decision right away." The next appointment had already been booked but as long as she cancelled early enough, they wouldn't be fined.

After Callie had been fighting tooth and nail to get out of counselling, the sudden compliance hurt.

* * *

"Do you understand why you were punished for opening Mom's gun safe?"

As her daughter nodded reluctantly, Lena couldn't help but notice how foreign the words felt on her tongue. In uttering them, she felt complicit in a decision she had never wanted a part in. Still, she stopped herself from asking in a way that pinned it onto Stef for the sake of showing that they were on the same page. What was done was done; the most pressing issue was to help Callie comprehend why she had been disciplined so they could sort through the mess of what it had and hadn't meant. No matter how much she and Stef disagreed with each other, Callie deserved the security of not seeing them waffle.

It was Parenting 101: Action over Understanding. Should a difference of opinion in parenting emerge, the best recommendation was to support your partner in delivery and follow through. Those arguments needed to be saved for behind closed doors, away from prying ears. Little good often came from children knowing that their parents were at odds with each other.

Despite this knowledge, Lena was struggling—oh, she was struggling hard—with her anger towards Stef. Hitting their children as a means of correction had been taken off the table after a brief, failed trial with a preschool-aged Jesus. Now she was grappling with her own feelings of betrayal by Stef's actions, compounded by her worry that the inroads they had made with Callie would be undone. Attachment-wise, they had taken a massive step backward and she knew it'd be an even greater battle to get back to where they were with the young girl.

Still, it was easy to see how the breaking point had been reached. As the full picture of her daughter's behaviour from the day before had emerged, Lena realized that her wife had been right about Callie's disobedience. They had been struggling to manage her for several weeks now and despite their best efforts, her recklessness had only escalated. It was hard to not feel like a failure.

Hearing her daughter stumble through her answers, Lena agreed that Callie was capable of knowing right from wrong. The issue was that she didn't understand—or worse, care—that she needed to follow their rules and how that was jeopardizing her probation. And that, to Lena, was even more problematic.

Though a tough pill to swallow, she could appreciate why Stef had decided that instilling a fear of consequence would help get Callie started on doing the right thing. That in time, going through the motions to avoid negative consequences would slowly nurture responsiveness toward positive affirmation and ultimately, the desire to make good decisions out of internal validation.

Unfortunately, that was the sticking point. To Lena, it felt like Stef had taken a gamble on Callie's attachment and emotional safety to get there.

* * *

"I know you want some space, love, and I promise you'll get some as soon as we're done. Okay?" Stef's voice faltered momentarily before she recovered. "But we need to make sure you understand why you were spanked."

It hadn't been her intention to try to evoke shame and she felt terrible when Callie lowered her head in defeat. However, she was determined not to leave this unresolved.

Callie drew in a shuddering breath, uncertain of whether she'd be able to speak without breaking down completely in front of the women. The knot of helplessness and confusion that had formed during their talk was now up in the back of her throat, threatening to unravel. But no matter how determined she was not to cry, she forced herself to speak, fearing what might happen if she didn't comply.

"I went in your safe," Callie whispered. Her expression filled with remorse as pent up tears finally made their way down her cheeks. The fatigue and confusion were getting to her—Stef had been nice today but she been mean yesterday, leaving her unsure as to which version of the cop she could believe.

The cop's tone was patient but stern. "Why was that wrong?"

"Because you put your police stuff in there and you lock it up so nobody gets hurt."

"You betcha. Why else?"

"Because I broke your trust…b—because you don't expect anyone else to open it." She sniffed noisily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as the tears fell harder. She felt terrible that she had let them down, and that coupled with the fear of screwing up again was overwhelming. Though Callie knew it was her own fault for being on autopilot when she entered the code, it hurt that Stef hadn't believed her when she said she hadn't touched her gun. "I wasn't supp—posed to be in there and I—I'm really s—sorry," she blubbered.

"Oh, honey _._ Don't cry, it's okay," the cop said, regretting that she had pushed the girl too far. "You were punished for it, and it's done—fresh slate. No need to apologize anymore. Everything's forgiven."

She hated seeing Callie so upset. "Will you let Mama or I give you a hug? You look like you really need one."

Callie began to shake her head before she stopped herself. Both women's gazes were soft, but for some reason she felt uneasy around them. "No, thank you," she declined politely, finally working up the courage to speak.

Stef thought she might know where the girl's distress was coming from. "Sweetheart, I want to let you know that I believe you when you say you didn't touch my things for work. I do. But that was still a very, very poor decision on your part to go into something you knew you weren't supposed to. Whether or not you handled my gun isn't the point—it was that there was potential for things to go wrong."

"It changes my understanding of what happened, yes, and had you done that we would be having a very different conversation right now."

"But it would not have changed anything about my decision to give you the consequence I did. Not a thing," she said, earning a glare from Lena. Clearly, her wife was still pissed off at her for not backing down.

"You can hate me for it, Callie. I know how much you didn't like what happened and that's okay, you don't have to. Please just know that I love you very much and that has never changed," the cop said, fighting back her own tears at acknowledging what she feared the most. However, she wanted to give Callie that permission.

Her daughter had remained silent the entire time, working hard at keeping her walls intact. However, for the first time in awhile, Stef was certain that they had earned her undivided attention, which brought with it a sense of relief. In her vulnerability, she was finally ready to listen to what they had to say. They just needed to make the most out of the moment to try to get through to her.

"How did you figure out the code?" Mike had recently bought a safe that was alarmed to meet fostering requirements and he had kindly agreed to swap units with her so really, it didn't matter anymore. However, Stef was curious; she had made sure that each number in the string was unique so it'd be hard to guess.

"It's okay. Remember, being honest even when you've made a decision that's not so great is the responsible thing to do. We won't get upset with you for telling the truth," Lena coaxed as Callie sucked in noisily through her nose. One socked foot rubbed against the other in what the woman could only guess was an attempt to self-soothe.

"When you signed my textbook forms," she said after a few minutes had gone by.

Lena watched as Callie's eyes darted between her and her wife's, trying to be cautious—debating if they were safe for her to disclose the truth. "Go on, honey. That was the first week you were here?" The woman tried hard not to let her own anxiety show. Had Callie been calculated about it?

"I— was sitting on your bed. Stef was getting ready for work. I—I saw her punch it in." Callie's voice pitched nervously.

Beside her, Lena heard her wife draw in a long, shaky breath before letting it out. _Oh my God. Callie had known all this time._

"Was in an accident, Callie, or was there a reason that it was important to you to know the code?" Stef asked, horrified by the revelation.

"Both, I guess," the girl answered tearfully. "I didn't know who you were… just that you were the police and thought I should remember in case…maybe if you weren't good…" Callie mumbled, trailing off.

"In case you needed to protect yourself and Jude," Stef finished. Somehow, she knew that whatever had fuelled the fear was more sinister than that. Her daughter wasn't referring to a minor disagreement. "You know that I would never hurt you two, right?"

Callie looked at the cop in genuine confusion. She _had_ hurt her.

"Honey, did you run from Mike because you're afraid of the police?" He had mentioned that Callie didn't want to come home probably because she knew she would be facing two unhappy parents but Stef had a sinking feeling that something more had contributed to it.

A slow nod confirmed her suspicions. "Oh, Bug," she sighed. Callie had been afraid of her from the beginning but likely even more now. "Mike was just doing his job, hey? Just like when I searched you because I needed to make sure you didn't have my gun. I'm so sorry, baby. We didn't mean to scare you," she apologized sincerely.

"But it's so important that you— _never—never, never—_ run from the police," she emphasized. "There have been cases where the police have used too much force on people who ran from them or resisted and they ended up getting hurt. I'm not saying that's right or wrong, and that's a whole discussion for another time, but that has happened."

"I hope you never find yourself in a situation with the police again but if you do—and so help me if you do, you'll be in more trouble with us than this entire week combined," she muttered as Callie winced. "But if this does happen again you don't run. I'll give you a card with my name and badge number. You can ask them to page me and that will get a hold of me right away on the radio. I can walk you through whatever it is until I can get there."

Suddenly, she understood the rollercoaster she had yanked her child on. She had conducted a search on her when Callie was afraid of her, reminding her the entire time that it was for safety. Being as careful and reassuring as possible to allay her fears so she could do what she needed to do.

She had roped her into believing she was protected before turning around and shattering it.

She had harmed her child.

No wonder Callie was trying to keep her at arms length.

* * *

 **A/N:** How do you think Stef and Lena are handling everything? What do you think Callie is making of all of this?

I'm hoping to end this story in about 10-12 chapters. There is just so much I want to see happen but I'm afraid if I add everything, I'll get burnt out before I finish or lose track of the story arcs and leave myself vulnerable to plot holes. Extra scenes (like the bank account) I will save for one shots.


	26. Hope in Shadows

**Author Note:**

Hi everyone, hope you enjoy this one as much as I did writing it. I was trying to depict an effort to return to normal family routines. This was supposed to be a fluff chapter to give myself a break but admittedly, I'm going through some personal stuff and it came out a little darker than intended.

I've been doing as much research as I can to learn about the intersections between the youth criminal justice system and foster care in the US for this and the next couple chapters (next one will be all sorts of legal). From my understanding, the process sounds similar to Canada when youth in care also have criminal justice overlap. Any and all mistakes are my own. ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 24:** Hope in Shadows

Stef groaned as she surveyed the memos and unfinished reports piled onto her desk. After reviewing the third file that had been allocated to her caseload, she was nowhere near done. Out of respect for time to be with family, she rarely worked Sundays; however, home was a huge stressor right now and she needed a break. Sneaking into work for a few hours to get caught up and organized for the week sounded like the perfect reprieve.

Still, it'd been hard not to get distracted by the situation at home. Friday had simply left her and Lena drained, and with all five children vying for their attention, it felt like they had barely recovered. On top of that, she was in the doghouse with Lena and their conversations had been strained at best. Callie had returned to the quiet, compliant child they knew from when she first entered their home. Although she had always been reticent around them, their interactions felt more forced than ever and she didn't speak beyond what was needed to answer their questions. In the face of new mistrust, she and Lena could only guess what was going on. On several occasions, Stef had noticed Callie turn the other way in the hallway or duck into the bedroom to avoid running into each other.

At first, she had been convinced that Callie was angry with her, but it quickly became apparent that fear was the predominant issue. That was almost worse because she had no idea how to help her daughter out of it. She had been hoping that Callie would go to Lena as she had done so on Friday; however, Callie had become just as avoidant with her wife.

 _"What the hell did you do to her?" Lena asked once the door to the ensuite had closed. She was furious, having just had an extremely tough time coaxing Callie into the bath and was certain her wife had something to do with it._

 _It was Sunday. Her daughter had managed to avoid her and a shower the day before and now, her hair was a crusty, matted heap atop her head. Though Lena had finally gotten Callie to acknowledge she needed help, she meekly refused entry to their bathroom, even when it was explained that the extendable shower head needed for the task was in there. Eventually, a promise of a bubble bath swayed her._

 _"What's that supposed to mean?" Stef shot back, immediately defensive. She had been folding laundry and had overheard the entire exchange between the two._

 _"You brought her into the bathroom on Friday, didn't you?" Lena accused._

 _"What? No! No I did not drag her off into the bathroom!" Stef whispered angrily, not wanting Callie to overhear their latest argument. "Why would I do something like that?"_

 _"Well, what am I supposed to think, Stef? It's taken me over a day to get her in there to wash her hair and she was shaking the entire time! You had the audacity to hit our child—can you blame me for wondering what else you could be capable of?" She knew it was unfair, but she couldn't help but take out her hurt feelings on her wife. Since approaching her for comfort on Friday, Callie had distanced herself significantly from her._

 _"You know what! I don't have to listen to this crap!" Stef spat, grabbing her wallet from the dresser. She would go to work where she was appreciated._

Only now did she cringe at the memory of how she had reacted.

* * *

"Aren't you on the non-rotating schedule?" Mike asked, stopping by her desk.

"Yup. Just in for the afternoon to get organized," Stef replied. Not wanting to bring attention to the fact that she'd recently shed tears, she didn't want to speak more than she needed to keep her voice from betraying her.

"Safe's in the car. I'll drive it over after my shift."

"Great. Thanks," she said quietly, continuing to review the memo in her hands.

Mike cleared his throat, trying to break the ice. "So…why the need to switch all of a sudden?"

Stef peered at him over her glasses, deliberating how transparent she could be. It wasn't like he was a stranger to their challenges at home.

"Can we talk off the record?"

* * *

Mike could only shake his head as he learned of what had happened with Callie. Having witnessed the talking-to she had received, he thought that she would've thought twice about beaking off and acting up again—at least for a little while.

"I don't know, Stef," he sighed. "You guys have given her a ton of chances before it came to this."

He knew Lena well enough to understand why she was so upset but at the end of the day, he also knew that if Callie went back to juvie her future would be gone. It wasn't something he wanted to see happen.

"Going into your safe. Drugs. Running away. That's serious business, especially when her PO and Case Worker are already on her ass. She's gotta smarten up. Maybe a little fear of consequence will help her get there."

He thought carefully, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "Look, I bet you anything that if you asked Callie if she wanted to go back into the system, she'd say no way, that she'd rather to stay with you guys. It's hard because she doesn't get the consequences of her behaviour so you kinda having to work under that assumption that she does want to stay out of real trouble. Punishment at home isn't really the real deal but she doesn't have understanding of that concept."

Stef nodded, knowing that she couldn't save Callie from those looming, legal consequences once she had gone too far. The only time they could help her fight them was now—by providing deterrents to make it harder for her to get to that point.

"Yeah. I'm with you there but she's got a history of abuse and neglect," she said, bringing attention to the fact that things were a little more complex with Callie. "Lena doesn't think she understands the difference between appropriate and unacceptable discipline based on whatever she's had to deal with before, and I have to agree. She just doesn't, Mike."

She sighed. Parenting was one of the most emotionally-rife things she had ever done. The constant teaching of right from wrong, and having to reinforce the concepts with consistency was exhausting. All of it was groundwork, laid in the hope of nurturing a gradual change in worldview. That one day, your children would decide to make choices based on internalized values—not solely to avoid consequences but because they're wanting to do the right thing.

Parenting a new child with a trauma history posed an extra challenge—it meant meeting all these needs without the safety net of a secure attachment and the history of a relationship to fall back on. So much time was devoted to erasing messages that their self-worth and love were contingent upon something external. The ones that no one had bothered to challenge on their behalf before they became internalized.

"Sure, she might not right now but she'll come around. You can't expect Cal to get it overnight. What you did doesn't even sound close to what we used to get growing up," he reminded, drawing upon their shared experiences. "From what I know, you two have explained and explained, much more than our parents ever did. You spend time with her, keeping tabs on her and helping her out—that's not neglectful or abusive. Deep down, I trust that she knows that you guys love her and I'm pretty sure she loves you back."

Stef agreed, though she wasn't quite sure she believed that Callie would come around.

"I don't think it was abusive, no…but it was still illegal," she said, addressing his earlier comment. "We just got the Adoption Day scheduled," she added, smiling at the progress before remembering it was over sixty days away. "If the Case Worker finds out, we'd lose her."

Mike frowned as he mentally reviewed the facts. His ex-wife was right; they could lose Callie if that happened, but it'd be unlikely to be because of how they had disciplined.

"Stef, you already know that removal only happens if there's an imminent threat to the wellbeing of a foster child. They just don't have enough Service Providers. They would recommend a parenting skills class and give you a hard time about not doing more to secure access to weapons in the home. That being said, for sure I wouldn't recommend doing the incident report."

"I already know _that,"_ Stef said in exasperation. She had outlined all this for Lena early that morning, well before their argument; however, her wife had had no intention of listening to her. As Mike had reiterated, they'd get off with a slap on the wrist.

It was Callie who would be worse off for it.

Filing an incident report for this would immediately open an investigation by the Department of Social Services to ensure their home was safe. She was comfortable disclosing that she had struck Callie, but it'd be impossible to do that without telling them _why_. Due to the felony on Callie's record, reporting that Callie had accessed her gun and had been in possession of marijuana again would automatically involve her Parole Officer. Things were already serious enough with the truancy and recent suspension that she was on their radar, and she didn't want to add to that.

"Well, what's the worry then?"

Stef drew in a long breath before letting it out. "Lena. She wants us to be transparent and file an incident report," she explained.

She put her hands in her head as she heard Mike say exactly what she wanted to. _"Shit._ That's messed up."

Indeed. Things could get even messier.

* * *

Stef was just about to open the storm door when Callie's frustrated words came through the window.

"Jude. I just _said_ , it's times-ing. Not plus-sing."

The woman frowned; she and Lena had put a kibosh on Callie helping Jude with homework, precisely because of interactions such as this one and because it impeded her ability to get her own work done. Plus, it wasn't her job.

"Try again. What's four times two?"

"Uhm…six?" Jude replied nervously.

" _No,_ " Callie over-enunciated in annoyance. " _Jude._ That's plus-sing."

Stef stifled a laugh at how bossy the older girl could be with her brother—a side they knew existed but rarely saw.

"Uhm, it's kinda like…photocopying. Making two copies of four things," Callie struggled to illustrate the concept. "You're counting four, twice. So it's eight."

"Photocopying? I don't get it…" Jude said miserably. "Why can't I just ask Mama for help like I always do? She's a good explainer," he pointed out before stopping himself. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled.

"I know but don't you see her cleaning and doing all the stuff to help us for the week? And right now she's got a boatload of laundry," his sister informed him. "Don't you think she'd be so happy if she came back and you finished your problems?"

The cop smiled dotingly. Callie's heart was always in the right place and she was surprisingly attune to others around her.

"I'm trying. Honest," Jude whined tearfully. He hated it when Callie got impatient with him.

Though she knew she needed to step in soon, Stef held back, curious as to how Callie would handle this.

"C'mon Jujube, you love Lena don't you? And you want her to love you back, right?"

Through the window, Stef could make out Jude nodding enthusiastically. Callie's next words were like a blow to the stomach that left her choked.

"So you gotta keep being good and try not to bug her so much, otherwise she might not. She loves you so much 'cause you're easy, JuJee."

* * *

"Hi my babies!" Stef called, entering only after she had regained her composure. Tightly embracing Jude and Callie from behind in a double hug, she gave each a peck on the cheek. While the boy had giggled and leaned into her, his sister was clearly uncomfortable, stiffening by the unwanted contact.

"How are you two doing?" she asked cheerfully, trying to ignore her sadness at Callie's reaction.

"Good," they chorused.

The cop berated herself for starting a conversation with an open-ended question. Even at the best of times, it would always lead to a one-word answer, especially with the two of them. "Where's Mama?" she tried again.

"With a boatload of laundry," Jude parroted earnestly. He beamed at her, evidently quite proud of himself for remembering.

Stef tousled her youngest's hair fondly, causing him to laugh. It was extra soft and poofy; Lena must've washed it for him after she had done Callie's.

"I see, and what about your siblings?" She winked at Callie, trying to engage her in some way.

Her littlest informant piped up again. "Jesus is playing Little Big Planet."

"Is he now?" Stef raised an eyebrow, doubtful her middle son had completed all his homework. Still crouching between them, she shifted her weight so she could turn to Callie. "Is Mariana up in your room?"

"Yea—I mean yes. With Lexi," Callie answered politely. "They're painting their nails and it smelled…" Her shoulders had begun to hike and tense as soon as the attention had shifted towards her. The eraser end of her pencil was in her mouth and she was chewing nervously on the metal ring.

"Ah, I see, that's why you're down here. My smart girl. That stuff can't be good for you." Briefly able to catch her gaze, Stef smiled warmly at her. However, her effort to show that she wasn't a threat only caused Callie to shrink from the unwanted eye contact. From the way the _yeah_ had been nixed from the answer, Stef could see that Callie was trying to be on her best behaviour. Trying not to make her upset.

It killed her that her child was afraid of her.

"What are you two working on?" Stef questioned, wanting to give the girl a chance to relax.

"Times-ing," Jude said miserably before catching himself. "But it's going well because Callie's helping me," he said brightly.

"Let me see." She scrutinized the worksheet over his shoulder, not questioning his ambivalence so they wouldn't catch onto the fact that she had overheard their earlier conversation. "Hmm. I think I know exactly what you need."

Jude's interest piqued at hearing about the prospect of alleviating his math woes. "What?"

"You'll find out soon enough." She winked at him, not wanting to give away too much solely so she could take joy in seeing his curiosity and hopefulness. Like his sister, Jude's demeanour almost always gave away his true feelings.

Stef was convinced that if Jude could learn his multiplication tables it would be easier, but curricula had changed in the decades since she'd been in school. Education was now focused on understanding rather than rote learning, so she needed something to make the concept more tangible.

"Thanks for helping out, Callie girl. Mama was home alone today and I bet she appreciated having an extra set of hands," Stef praised. She tapped on the disorganized-looking binder in front of the girl. "But don't forget to focus on what you need to do, too."

Callie looked down guiltily. Lena had helped her get started on getting things into their sections before she had gone upstairs but she had forgotten that she was supposed to keep working on it.

"It's alright, we all need a reminder sometimes," Stef reassured when she noticed Callie deflate. "I'll give you a hand before dinner, okay?"

Callie hesitated before nodding. "Yes please." She felt kinda bad for going back on what she had just told Jude not to do—ask for too much help. But she also didn't want Lena to be upset with her at finding out she hadn't done what she'd been told to do.

Hearing Mike at the door, Stef gave her daughter's shoulder a quick squeeze before standing to let him in. She regretted letting the storm door slam behind them when both of the kids jumped.

"Hey kids!" Mike said, puffing from the weight of the heavy unit.

Stef hid her amusement. She could already anticipate his chagrin at agreeing to swap his fancy new gun safe without first looking at what he was actually trading it for. Her's was much older and much more basic.

"The island's fine. Jude, why don't you come with me? We'll ask Mama where B's old Lego," she said, wanting to give Mike a moment alone with Callie. She had asked him to apologize—not only because it was the right thing to do, but because she wanted to create a repertoire of positive experiences Callie would have with the police.

"Come on. This is for your homework. You're allowed to have fun while doing it, you know," Stef pointed out, sensing his hesitation over breaking their rule of finishing work before playing.

Jude could barely hold in his excitement as he flew out of his chair. He'd never gotten to play with Lego before and could not _wait_. "Okay!"

"Ah—ah—AH! Your worksheet, young man!" Stef called, waving the green duo-tang after him as he ran up the stairs shouting for her wife.

"Mama! _MAMA!_ "

* * *

"Split Pea!" Mike half-hollered as he remembered that he was supposed to talk with Callie. "That's right, you heard me," he said, seeing the girl scrunch up her nose at the newest nickname he'd come up with for her. "It's Split Pea because you can run fast. I gotta be careful around you from now on," he wisecracked. Realizing he was fading and that it was almost three-thirty, he decided to brew a pot of coffee.

Callie watched dejectedly as he rinsed out the carafe, wondering if he was mad at her, too. Mike was like family but he didn't normally cook in their kitchen.

"Thanks," she said when he set a glass of milk in front of her, along with a jalapeño cheese bun he'd zapped in the microwave. When the machine finally beeped, he poured himself a mug and sat down.

"Heard you're on a bit of a lockdown. Stef tells me you've had a rough couple of days."

"Yeah…" she said quietly, ashamed that Mike knew she'd gotten in trouble. "I was dumb."

"No, no. You're not dumb, Cal. Messing up—everyone messes up. It's just a part of growing up. Even adults—Stef, Lena, me, your teachers—do things we regret all the time. The important thing is trying to learn from them so they don't happen again." He felt for her. Stef and Lena were tough but he knew both of them loved the kids fiercely and were fair.

"Hey. I, uh, didn't get a chance to apologize on Friday. I'm sorry for chasing you down the way I did. I wanted to see you get home and didn't have a choice when you bolted," Mike explained, hoping he hadn't spooked her too badly.

Callie shrugged. "It's okay."

"I didn't wrench your arm or anything like that when I grabbed you? Does your arm hurt anywhere?" Relief washed over him when the young girl shook her head.

"I'm guessing Stef already talked to you about running from the cops. Never a good idea," he reminded as he'd been asked to. It was one of his ex-wife's greatest fears for Callie. That in a moment of panic, she wouldn't recognize the danger of resisting or running from a cop like she had done with him—and would risk being subjected to excessive force as a result.

"Chin up, it'll be over before you know it," Mike consoled, puzzled when Callie shook her head sadly at him. Stef hadn't told him that her restrictions didn't have an end-date.

He nodded towards the milk which she had barely touched. "Here. Finish up. Girls need calcium for their bones."

"O—kay," Callie agreed before realizing that made no sense to her. "Why?" she asked carefully as she picked out some of the jalapeños in the cheesy bread. "Boys have bones." She laughed when the cop struggled to answer her question, entertained by the idea that she had caught him BS-ing her. She popped a pepper in her mouth before realizing they were too spicy even for her.

"Hey—slow down!" he exclaimed as Callie guzzled her drink, coughing up milk while she continued to laugh. "My CPR is almost up for renewal—I'm out of practice!" This kid was gonna get his goose cooked.

From the stairwell, Stef had overhead most of their interaction. She had left Jude upstairs, working away on his worksheet after showing him the concept of multiplication with the plastic bricks. As much as she wanted to go down, she stopped herself. Callie sounded so relaxed, and hearing her open up after two days of silence was wonderful—but she couldn't help but feel hurt that it was her ex-husband that her daughter felt comfortable around.

* * *

Stef tapped the Presidents of the USA worksheet in the middle of the math section. "This is the most interesting math I've ever seen. Where does this belong?"

"Oh. History." Callie opened the D-rings and replaced it in front of the divider so it was now under the correct subject.

The cop had never been so grateful for Sunday binder organization activities. They were fifteen minutes in and though her daughter still looked on edge, she was already talking a bit more even though it was only to answer questions. Determined not to let Callie retreat any further from her than she already had, the cop was prepared to sit here all night if she had to.

"What do you have coming up that's due this week?" the woman asked, sliding Callie's agenda towards her. She and Lena had been encouraging her to write down, in calendar format, when assignments were due to cut down on late submissions. Though Callie found the coursework hard, her marks were strong. More often than not, it was her lack of organization that lead to points being docked for work that was handed in late or missed altogether.

"Uhm…the rest of the Bridge to Terabithia questions and the chapter vocab questions. Geography, the section on latitude and longitude…and Math…prob—lems?" Callie trailed off, having difficulty making out her own writing.

"Math problems," she repeated confidently, hoping she wouldn't irritate her foster mother. She liked her old way of doing things as she remembered better; it seemed that the more Stef and Lena told her to use the calendar and label the tabs in her binder, the more muddled she felt.

Stef leaned over, squinting at the girl's writing. "Ah." Flipping through the stack of papers she'd taken from the binder's burgeoning vinyl pocket, she handed over the worksheets on probabilities. "Are these the elusive math problems you might have been referring to?" She smiled, noticing the girl brighten a little at the mystery being solved.

"Thanks," Callie mumbled, somewhat embarrassed.

While she worked on getting it into the right section, Stef went through the rest of the pile. Finding the writeup she and Lena had assigned, she skimmed it, pleasantly surprised at how nicely it'd come along since the last time she had checked. The content was less superficial—showing that she had taken it more seriously, which Stef hoped was reflective of Callie's increased accountability for her actions.

Taking a pen, she wrote _ACTION PLAN_ in the blank space below before turning the page towards Callie. "Three points—what you'll do next time you want to smoke pot—and you're done."

Her daughter looked up at her in relief. "Really?"

"Sure thing. You've done a fine job. Let's finish it now," she suggested, knowing Callie had a busy week ahead of her and not wanting any of this hanging over her. "These are mine, too," she said, setting aside the lines she found underneath.

"I—it's not done," came a small voice.

"It's done. We talked about it already," Stef insisted. "Thank you for being conscientious about what Mama and I asked you to do. I'm proud of you, my love," she praised.

"Looking forward to going back to school tomorrow?"

"I guess," Callie replied uneasily. She had been excited to have some space again until she remembered how Lena had called for her over the PA. Between that and living with four other kids who attended Anchor Beach, there was a good chance everyone knew she'd gotten suspended. Rubbing her clammy hands on her tights, she looked away, uncomfortable at being alone with the cop.

"Your excitement is leaving something to be desired, baby. I'm sure you're happy to not be cooped up in this house, no?" Stef said playfully, trying to cheer her up. She hadn't missed the sudden change in Callie's expression as her eyes fell on Mike's safe which sat on the counter. Whereas initially she had eyed it curiously, this time, her face fell in dismay. As if realization of what had taken place had just dawned on her.

"Love?" she called gently, ducking her head to try to catch Callie's gaze. "Please talk to me, sweetness. What's going on in that beautiful head of your's?" she tried again when her daughter only hung her head and remained silent.

Callie could only shake her head as she furiously blinked back her tears, suddenly feeling ashamed. Never once had she thought the safe would need replacing all because she'd opened it. The swap was a reminder that she had done something she couldn't take back—that there was absolutely nothing she could do to fix things. Not only had she disappointed Stef but she had lost her trust, and earning it back seemed hopeless. She might not even be able to get it all back. That was how badly she'd screwed up.

"Give it a try even if you think you can't find the words," Stef encouraged.

"It's all my fault," Callie finally uttered sadly. "I made you change your safe."

The woman smiled painfully, understanding what this was all about. She was proud that Callie had had her moment when she saw the repercussions of her actions. At the same time she was sad on her daughter's behalf for having to learn such a tough lesson and knew that Callie needed kindness.

"I'm sorry, Bug," Stef apologized. "It needed to happen. Once the code is known by anyone other than the owner, it's not much good anymore, is it? Nothing's wasted. I actually think I might be coming out ahead. Did you see how nice Mike's is in comparison to the crappy one he's getting now?" she said, getting a tiny smirk from the girl.

She paused, wanting to be thoughtful with her words when it was clear Callie wouldn't say anything. "It wasn't meant to rub it in that you made some decisions I would've much rather you hadn't."

Her heart ached at seeing Callie flinch when she went to brush the flyaway curls away from the girl's face. She ignored it, determined to show Callie that she was safe and loved. Hugging the girl tightly to her side once more, she kissed her on the temple.

"Trust is earned, my baby. That means you'll get it back. You already are," she said, the message as much for her own reassurance as it was for Callie.

* * *

 **A/N:** What is Lena thinking?


	27. A Monster that Comes to Call

**Author Note:**

This chapter took on a life of its own and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. This was originally one scene that focused on the legal ramifications of Callie's recent decisions...but then I became curious about how it'd tie in with a Case Worker, and what Callie and Jude might have been like before they got to their current placement (everything always looks so easy on the show). A nice way of admitting that I got carried away.

Apologies for any inaccuracies; I'm sure there are some. Thank you to **theypreferthetermpeople** for help understanding the US system, and to **AchillesMonkey** for the advice on how PTSD from trauma and abuse would manifest in children. ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 25:** A Monster that Comes to Call

"What's all this?" Lena asked, holding the front door open for Bill as he came in carrying a banker's box under each arm. Despite the circumstances surrounding their meeting, he appeared cheerful.

It was Monday afternoon and she and Stef had been waiting somewhat anxiously for his arrival. The Case Worker had already called twice before, letting them know that he would be delayed each time. While they understood that this was the nature of the field—that urgent matters got prioritized and things were constantly being re-shuffled throughout the day—they really wanted the discussion to happen before the kids hot home from school.

At first, they had wanted to push the appointment to Tuesday to allow Callie at least a day of normalcy. However, knowing that her Parole Officer had been the primary reason for Bill calling a family meeting, they decided that it'd be best to have it dealt with sooner than later.

"Just a sec. I'll show you," he said, smiling widely as he set the boxes down on the coffee table. He fumbled with his keys to slice through the packing tape holding the lids in place, almost impatiently, before removing one and tilting the box towards them.

"There's one more in the car. Remind me before I leave or feel free to grab it from the trunk if I'm with the kids at that time."

There was a pause before Stef and Lena realized what it was they were looking at. Inside, numerous freezer bags were neatly packed together. Through the plastic, they could make out stacks of family photos, _Baby's First Year_ albums, and brag books. Clay hand and foot prints scattered amongst other _Happy Mother's_ and _Father's Day_ crafts. The classic blue and pink striped hospital swaddle blanket was visible through another.

"Oh my god," Stef exhaled, looking over at Lena who was already wiping tears off her face.

"Is this—?" she began, turning to Bill in sheer disbelief. _"How?"_ she asked incredulously when he only smiled and nodded in confirmation.

"You both know how it is. There's not a lot of space in foster homes so it's not possible for kids to bring too much with them, other than the essentials. That's especially a challenge for kids like Callie and Jude who were living with families they wouldn't have been removed from had it not been for poor luck," he explained.

"When I did the final sweep of their apartment, the junk removal service we had contracted had already taken care of the furniture and confidential documents. The landlord had gone in and set aside a memory box Colleen had started as well as several personal affects and toys. I just couldn't leave that stuff behind. Our office has a warehouse in the back and it's been sitting there, waiting for permanent housing to come through."

"I'd recommend going through everything before passing it onto Jude and Callie. You may decide to hold back on some things if you feel they're not quite ready to get everything at once. The other reason being that I didn't have time to check for bedbugs or other pests, which is why everything's been bagged separately by placement." He chuckled sadly when Lena shuddered. "I'm not so worried about the stuff from home but there are also items we asked Callie and Jude to give up after they had already taken them through a few placements."

Bill dug around, holding up a bag of cassette tapes. "This would be a good start. Callie really wanted to keep them but was told no, that she couldn't count on having access to a cassette player. She wasn't too thrilled about that."

"Anyway, now it's ready to be passed on. Congratulations, by the way," he said, beaming. Stef and Lena's happiness and relief were contagious. Although there had never been a doubt in his mind that the couple's petition for adoption would be approved, he understood their cautiousness.

"How are you feeling about Adoption Day being only two months away?" he inquired, aware of some of Callie's recent difficulties.

Stef and Lena looked at each other, their eyes twinkling.

"Well, we can hardly wait for it, that's for sure," Stef managed to reply. She, too, had been hopeful, knowing that already having a successful adoption under their belt would help. Still, she pushed it aside—no potential parent ever wanted to get their hopes up, only to have things not work out.

"We're hopeful that having an exact date the kids can look forward to will help them feel a bit more settled," Lena added. "I think Callie is still afraid things might fall through…that has probably contributed to some of the things that have been going on."

"Being through several homes would certainly do that," Bill agreed. "I'd love for Jude and Callie to settle down and get comfortable, too. This has been a wonderful place for them both, especially after being separated. That was really hard on them."

He pulled out his most recent report. "So, how are they doing? We discussed hygiene, bedwetting, and physical health last time I was here."

"They still need help with their self-care but it has gotten much, much better. We're intervening only when there's visible dirt but in between those times, both are independent with their routine. Jude isn't evading baths anymore and he allowed Lena to wash his hair yesterday after she'd done Callie's," Stef explained. "Though, there may or may not have been protesting," she said, laughing. According to her wife, Jude had squawked in dismay throughout the process.

Bill nodded and wrote _continue skill building and maintenance_ under Callie and Jude's individual plans. "That's amazing! It seemed like we were stuck for awhile. Did you ever figure out why Jude was against bathing?"

"It wasn't bathing, per se. We think he was afraid of the noise the shower made," Lena informed.

"Oh! I forgot—we're done with Goodnites!" she added excitedly. "We limit Jude's water intake to an hour before bed and that's helped. He's had maybe two accidents since then but came to us right away each time."

"Wonderful," Bill praised, writing _maintenance_ into his plan. "He must be so proud of himself!" He flipped the page. "Any other night time challenges with sleep or nightmares?"

"Keeping them on a consistent sleep/wake schedule is still a struggle but they sleep through the night," Stef answered truthfully. "Nightmares are ongoing but on the decline."

"Still good news. Those will take awhile. What about mealtimes?"

"Their appetites are healthy, that's for sure," Lena said, laughing along with her wife. She still couldn't believe how much both kids could scarf down in one sitting as long as they were offered. "Their eating patterns are still disorganized so we enforce meals and snacks, and keep offering until we are sure they're full. We noticed that if we don't do that, they aren't comfortable asking or helping themselves even if it's clear to us that they are still hungry."

Bill pulled out a faxed copy of notes from the children's last physical. "The family doctor has some concerns about Callie's weight. She's recommended that she gain at least fifteen pounds," he pointed out.

"We incorporated her dietary recommendations right away. I weighed them yesterday and Callie has gained almost six pounds." Lena couldn't help but feel annoyed; with the level of scrutiny they got, she couldn't understand how the kids had been neglected to the point of malnourishment in other homes.

"That's great. It sounds like they're thriving," Bill praised. Despite the recent stressors, everything felt on track and he was happy to see the women through another successful adoption.

* * *

"Anything else you want to discuss that's happened between the last visit and this one? Any new issues or concerns that have come up, other than the recent difficulties at school?" he asked as he replaced his pen in the clipboard's clamp.

"No, nothing I can think of," Stef replied, establishing the lead on this. "We've been encouraging Callie and Jude to spend more time apart and that's a bit of a work in progress. Some days are better than others and they're more receptive to doing their own thing; other days it's a struggle to have one of them in the backyard while the other is inside."

She was careful in her selection of what she was disclosing: enough to be believable, but not much beyond that so the Case Worker wouldn't prod. "Callie has been developing a bit of an attitude, mostly when she's frustrated she can't get her way or when we reinforce the boundaries we set for her. Nothing major, though. Most of the time she's reserved and quite affectionate with us."

Bill frowned. "When you say attitude, what does that look like?"

"Mostly talking back and swearing. Like Stef said, it usually escalates when we're trying to set a boundary and Callie realizes we aren't going to back down," Lena replied. "Last week after her suspension she managed to rack up a number of consequences at home, so she hasn't been too happy with us to be honest," she added, feeling terrible for hiding the more significant events from Bill. Callie deserved so much better. _"_ But at thirteen, I'm expecting that in terms of development, too."

"You read my mind. What you described is common in the transition period. Callie is settling down and starting to feel like you are safe, trustworthy people she can rely on. All children need to know where the line is and that's exactly what she is doing when she tests her limits. Which, by the way, is always something I take as a good sign. It's when children go quiet—afraid to rock the boat—that I start to worry."

"It can't be easy, getting used to a new set of rules each time you need to move," Stef said sadly. "I think both of them have gotten used to a certain degree of unpredictability and we're asking them to adjust to a consistent routine with new rules and expectations. It's unfortunate that this groundwork hadn't been laid before."

"I totally agree. What it is though, is that it's virtually impossible to standardize care across all the homes, apart from asking for children's basic needs to be met. At least now Callie and Jude can get used to their new digs now and the way you and Lena do things. What sorts of things have you tried to manage Callie's behaviour?"

His question prompted Stef to look at her wife, hoping she wouldn't disclose anything more than they needed to. She knew her wife well enough to know that amidst her anger was guilt over what had happened, and she didn't want Lena to make a mistake that would cost Callie.

"Well, she's been grounded for blowing off her classes and for getting suspended. She also lost her guitar for mouthing off and we had her write lines to earn it back," the cop began, hoping she wouldn't be judged for that. "Shoot. Which reminds me, I need to give that back to her since she completed the lines yesterday," she said

"We've also told Callie that she will need to spend her breaks and lunches with me in the office for the time being—until we're certain she can make better choices for herself," Lena supplied.

"How have these approaches worked for you?"

"To be honest, grounding hasn't been effective, which is why we're trying out the modified time-in that Dr. Wiseman recommended. That way, we get to spend time together and hopefully get some positive experiences built in, too," Lena said. "The lines were tough. It was something Stef and I hadn't discussed."

"It was tough. Callie initially had a lot of difficulty grasping it as a consequence, but seemed okay once I explained it again. I guess we need still need to talk about whether that should stay on the table," her wife admitted. "It would probably be easier to have a swear jar…but then we'd have to think about giving all the kids an allowance."

"Well, like most parents, you'll find that you may need to try different things before determining what works for each child. I think you probably remember going through a similar process with Mariana and Jesus," he reminded.

"Now that everything's in order for the adoption, I think family therapy is going to be key to help support the transition. Just like it was with the twins, it would be more for Jude and Callie's sake. Lena, you mentioned that you recently got Callie into Gisella Wiseman's practice, which is wonderful. This is exactly her area of expertise and she's got a great reputation for her grief, loss, and trauma work in children."

"I'm sure she has a plan in mind already but you may want her support in facilitating some of the discussion around parents who have to relinquish their rights. When I met with Donald to go over the papers, he asked to eventually have contact with the children, understandably. He accepted that it wouldn't be in the kids' best interest until they had some time to settle in and that ultimately they would need to be able to give informed consent. That could get tricky if you think one child is ready but the other is not."

Stef and Lena eyed each other worriedly. Donald wanting to see his kids hadn't even been on their radar. On top of that, they had left it up to Callie to decide if she wanted to go back. Though she had half-heartedly agreed when they asked her about it over the weekend, they knew that she had only been telling them what she thought they wanted to hear. They felt badly enough that they were deliberating cancelling it on Callie's behalf but Bill had brought up some good points, too.

"Oh no," he said slowly, noticing the way they had reacted. "Did things not go too well?"

"Ah—not quite," Stef sighed, treading carefully. No way was she going to disclose Callie had run away. "If we could convince Callie to go, do you think her Parole Officer would be amenable to switching her out of her court-ordered group? I know it's more cost-effective on their end but we're already paying for this out of pocket and are willing to continue as long as it benefits Callie."

"We know that she actually participated and that one-on-one would be much more beneficial to her," Lena said, understanding where Stef was going with this. "Gisella can actually do the trauma work that is outside the scope of what the group can provide."

"Yes, for sure. I'll add that to the risk management plan he's requested and will negotiate that. I don't see how that would be a problem, especially when even Dr. Kodema is questioning the therapeutic value of having Callie there. The fact that she's suggesting how group-inappropriate Callie is certainly hasn't helped to make her case look any better. If we can get her attending and taking part in individual or even family sessions, it demonstrates that their recommendation was inappropriate—not that she's 'unable to rehabilitate,'" he said sadly.

"I know," he agreed when Stef straightened into a defensive posture and rolled her eyes.

"Since we're on the topic now, let's think of some strategies we can implement to help support Callie with her parole," Bill redirected. He had already given Lena a heads up about the call he received from the Parole Officer and trusted that the women had discussed the details between them.

"I think the best course of action is if I put forth a recommendation for why it's in Callie's best interest to stay in community, in addition to what we'll be doing to have her adhere to the conditions that have been set forth by the court. What that means is I'll include a summary of her progress since she's been in your home—things like her grades, physical health, and the gains in socioemotional development. I'll make sure to connect with Gisella's office to have her provide her clinical opinion, too." He had been around long enough to know that a one-page response wouldn't suffice.

"So, what happens after this? How long do we need to wait?" Stef asked curiously. This had been her greatest worry for a long time: the two sides engaged in a tug-of-war.

"That's a good question. Essentially the response goes through my Supervisor, who signs off on it before it's sent to the PO. We already have a date set for a Case Conference with her PO and other representatives from Juvenile Justice. That's a chance to address any questions or concerns that emerge," he explained. "The whole process could take two to three weeks."

Lena cut right to the chase, acknowledging the elephant in the room. "How serious is this, Bill? I know probation violation is a big deal but this is also Callie's first time. Are they looking at revoking her parole?"

Bill sighed. He had expected this question to come up and had prepared his answer carefully. "I don't expect that they'd revoke her probation based on the violations alone, no. It'd be a different story if Callie had managed to get arrested and charged with something else, though."

"If they wanted to pick her up, they would've done so already. They have grounds to do that, even based on the truancy alone," the cop clarified.

If this was the response to skipping school and a suspension, she was sure Callie wouldn't stand a chance should it ever emerge that she had accessed a gun and ran away.

Bill paused, wanting to be honest but not worry Stef and Lena more than they needed to be. "I mean, it's significant enough that her case is being brought up the chain and that they want more information. In talking with her PO, it seems his main concern is why there was such a long string of absences from school that went under the radar. He was also concerned about the drug and alcohol use on school grounds because of Callie's previous charge of possession, which is understandable."

"Look, I know this all probably sounds scary because we don't know what's going to happen," Bill validated, seeing the women's tired and worried expressions. "But right now all he's asked for is increased frequency of visitation and reporting from the school, and a plan from our end to see Callie through to the end of her probation. I think we can provide that, as well as demonstrate that it can be plausibly implemented. So let's just try to stay focused on that."

* * *

Together, the three adults reviewed the sign-in process to monitor for class attendance as well as ways to increase supervision to dissuade Callie from skipping. Between them, they worked out that Callie had likely intercepted the automated messages from the school notifying of her absences, which is why no one had found out until Stef had caught her. Once they figured that out, Lena immediately phoned admin to update their contact information so that calls from the absence line would go directly to their cell phones. As well, she approved the request to increase frequency of reporting to monthly rather than quarterly. They hoped that implementing these changes right away would demonstrate that they were taking the breaches of parole seriously, were taking steps to address them, and ultimately get Juvenile Justice to back off a little.

After much debate, they also came to the decision that Callie was to continue sessions with Dr. Wiseman. She wouldn't be thrilled, but all three of them thought she would comply. Plus, if they were asking Callie's Parole Officer to let her switch from the current group she was in, they needed to follow through.

Reluctantly, they also agreed to increased visits with him in the short-term, asking that it only be considered once other changes had been put into action—including increased visitation with Bill first. They were not averse to increased monitoring by the Parole Officer; however, knowing Callie was afraid of the police, they didn't feel comfortable readily accepting.

As they were wrapping up, the kids bounded in, accompanied by a tired-looking Sharon. "Hey Jujube, hey Cal! You're just in time," Bill greeted cheerfully as the siblings came into the living room.

"Did you know that most people think that jujubes are pronounced ju— _ju_ bes instead of juju— _bees_ which is the right way?" Jude yammered. "It's an easy mistake to make but if you look at the box— _Ow!_ " he whined as Callie elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

"Sorry," he said automatically.

"No, no. The apology is mine. I thought it was a matter of preference," Bill managed to respond before guffawing.

"Do you, uhm—got any?" Jude asked shyly.

Wearing an expression of exaggerated regret, Bill slapped his forehead. "You know what…I think I left them behind in my office," he said seriously, checking his pockets. Just as the boy's hopefulness waned, he reached into the inside of his jacket. "Oh! It's your lucky day!" he exclaimed, causing both kids to grin.

Stef was certain her youngest was going to pee himself as Bill pulled out a slightly squashed rectangular carton and Jude all but grabbed it out of his hands.

Lena was on it right away. "Excuse me? What do you say?" she scolded lightly, mortified at her son's presumptuousness. Still, she was having a lot of trouble keeping it together. Around them, Jude was a fairly docile child so it was surprising to see him comfortable enough with Bill to talk back and ask for candy.

"Please can I have it?" Jude asked her hopefully, his face dropping when the woman raised an unimpressed eyebrow. _That was clearly a no._

"You _may_ ," she prompted slowly, remaining stern to send a message they were not yet done.

"Oh…thank you," he tried again, realizing his mistake and wanting to be off the hook. Lena looked scary.

Lena shook her head at her son in disapproval. "It's not me you need to thank, Jude," she informed him.

"Sorry," he said, turning back to Bill before mumbling, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

" _See_ , there's the _bee!"_ the boy cried out, enthusiastically pointing out the little cartoon insect to the Case Worker.

Stef and Lena exchanged a sympathetic look at seeing how quickly the moment had passed for him. Even though the interaction hadn't made him feel good, Jude felt secure enough to know that Lena had only been unhappy because she needed to remind him to use his manners—as she usually did. Now that the slate was wiped clean, he was happy it was over.

"Alright Juju- _bee_ , I'm going to talk to Callie first. We'll come get you when we're done. Leave us some, please. And more than a quarter of the box this time," he instructed, chuckling as Lena rolled her eyes. Hey, if it took a bit of junk food to bond with the kids he needed to care for…

"Okay!" the eight-year-old chirped, running back to Sharon. Unbeknownst to him, she'd been waiting patiently by the kitchen to get him out of their hair.

* * *

Bill got up off the couch. "Here, have a seat, Callie." He gestured to Lena. "Let's switch spots," he offered, committed to having the foster family play a good part while he took responsibility for the bad news. He had nearly a five-year-history with her and could afford to take a few hits, while Stef and Lena could not. At the end of the day, Callie wasn't going home with him.

"How was school today?"

"Good," Callie whispered, the first signs of panic bubbling in her chest. She didn't like that she was in the company of the three adults where she would be subjected to endless questioning. Somehow, foster parents always seemed to get mad after Bill came over. She would have to be extra careful with how she answered.

"Getting everything done that you need to? My nieces and nephews tell me that it's almost end of term."

Callie nodded. "Yeah, it's busy. A charter school is kinda hard."

"That it is. And you've never been to one before, right? I see you're doing really well, though. Your grades are high and that's not easy to do when you're coming when the school year has already started. Keep it up!" he praised as Callie gave him a small smile.

"Doing well in school isn't just about the marks though, hey? You can't just go in to drop off your assignment and peace out, or be out to lunch when you do attend. I know that's what you're used to doing but we have the same deal as before. You need to go to every single one of your classes."

"I know it's hard to change. But because it's a written condition of your parole, it means you agree to go to school. So unless you're ill—I don't want to hear about any more missed blocks."

Bill felt guilty when Callie shifted uncomfortably. Due to heavy caseloads, children rarely saw their Case Workers over good news, which made it a challenge to build strong relationships based on positive experiences. That was what Service Providers were for.

"What happened last week? Everything had been going so well…I was surprised that you were suspended," he said, levelling his minor with a serious gaze.

Her stomach in knots, Callie stared at him miserably. "I don't know."

It was the moment Stef felt her protectiveness for her daughter take over. Seeing Callie's face blotch up as it usually did before she'd start to cry, her eyes darting up to Bill and back down again, the woman couldn't help it. Callie looked crestfallen and frightened.

Stef very well knew that their daughter was a ward of the state—meaning that she and Lena were just another set of arms for Bill in caring for her. They were accountable to him; not the other way around. Still, to maternal instinct, it felt like an affront. As though he was overstepping his role.

"I think it needs to be clarified at the Case Conference that there was never any proof that Callie was doing drugs and alcohol on the campus," she interjected. "At no point in time did a teacher see her with either in hand. Yes, there was a concern she might have been in a car where there were allegedly marijuana and open beer but I'm not sure it's anything beyond that," Stef asserted calmly.

She wasn't sure what was coming over her but _threatened_ was the only word she could think of to describe how she felt. It was a cunning move and Stef knew she was being aggressive for running on a technicality but that wasn't beneath her if it meant fighting the Parole Officer. Without evidence, it'd be hard to prove that Callie had violated the condition specifying no illicit substances and alcohol.

"Either way, we've made it clear that none of this is to happen again," Stef said sternly as she gave her daughter a pointed look.

Callie felt her stomach plummet at hearing the cop's words. She had never felt so disappointed and ashamed in herself. Not only did Stef know the truth about what she'd done but she was sticking up for her and she couldn't understand why. Imagining the worse, she swallowed hard. Would Stef make her pay for it when Bill left?

"Is this true? No one saw you?" Bill asked, turning to Callie. This wasn't the first time he had case managed a youth with criminal justice involvement and, like Stef, he was well aware that every detail mattered.

He sighed tiredly and gestured around the room at the adults when the girl didn't respond right away. "All of us in this room are working very hard to support you. For us to do that, we need you to be truthful with us," he said patiently.

"Go ahead, honey. You're not going to be in any trouble," Stef encouraged when Callie glanced worriedly at her, looking for direction.

"No one saw us. Just Wyatt. Timothy—my English teacher—said to come out of the car and I did but I didn't have anything on me."

"What happened after that?" Bill inquired.

"He said to go to the Principal's office."

Trying not to sigh loudly, the Case Worker peered over his glasses at the youth. Getting answers out of her had always been like pulling teeth. "Yes?"

She stole a glance up at Bill, catching the knowing, disappointed look he gave her. "I—I didn't go. Sorry," she confided, mumbling as she hung her head.

Arms crossed, Stef watched the exchange intently and nodded in approval. There it was—the loophole that would save Callie this time.

Lena, who'd initially been confused by the discussion, had never been happier with her daughter for disobeying.

"Okay. Thank you, Callie." He hid his smile, hopeful that this would help him advocate for her. He didn't need her knowing that, however. "I need you to start toe-ing the line a little more carefully, kiddo. You've some pretty good things going for you here and I don't want to see you shoot yourself in the foot when you're this close to the finish line," Bill warned. "We're not going to have a repeat of this. Right?"

He had wanted to wait for an answer but settled for another nod before deciding to cut to the chase. "Alright. Stef, Lena, and I've been talking about a few things we can do to help you follow your parole conditions. I believe they've already gone over some of them with you so we won't revisit those," he began.

"I do want to talk to you about Dr. Wiseman, though." From the way Callie looked at him, it was clear as day that she knew what he was going to say. They had been down this path many times together.

"I'm going to recommend that you keep going to see her. _No, hold up—_ let me tell you why," Bill said quickly when Callie began to argue. "It will get your PO to lay off a little. I know it sucks," he said empathically. "Stef and Lena left it up to you but I'm making the decision for you right now," he continued with finality.

"I just want you to show up and try. Plus, if he wants any assessments, you'd probably be switching over to her anyway. I'll start looking into the possibility of getting you out of group but it may take a little while," he offered, hoping that was a good enough olive branch to win over her cooperation.

"What do you mean, _if_ they want assessments?" Stef asked, her tone none-too-gentle. "Isn't there a process? He just can't ask for that, right?" she demanded. She knew exactly what the Parole Officer was trying to pull and she wasn't going to have any of it. Looking between Bill and Lena in horror, she could only hope that they would back her up on this.

Bill immediately regretted mentioning anything. "He hinted that he wanted her assessed for any learning or behavioural difficulties in case an alternative program might be a better fit," he said, keeping it general for Callie's sake. "But you're correct, it's not his place."

" _Whoa._ Wait," Lena began before her wife completely cut her off.

"He doesn't have that _right_!" the cop said incredulously. "First he recommends a group where the kids are on average two years older, who are _far_ more entrenched in the youth justice system. _Then_ he complains about lack of participation and makes insinuations about rehabilitative potential! Maybe if he stopped trying to set up all his kids for failure then they would feel like the system had some faith in them!" she huffed angrily before shaking her head.

"I know. We also feel that was completely inappropriate," the Case Worker conceded. Although Bill had his own concerns about the Parole Officer's intentions and how he'd exercise diplomacy, he was confident this decision was in their hands. He turned to Lena, wanting to give her a chance to speak though he already anticipated what her thoughts on the matter might be.

"I think what Stef is trying to say is that assessments can't be demanded, as I'm sure you're aware, _especially_ when there aren't concerns. That determination of whether it's warranted is always up to the discretion of a licensed clinician after a formal screening process. There have been absolutely no concerns about a behavioural disorder at any time—not from the school, me, or Dr. Wiseman. Never. Assessing for something without therapeutic rationale is harmful, period," the woman snapped.

"Believe me, it's already on our radar of things to address at the case conference. We're not going to allow that to happen if we can help it," he reassured the women before turning his attention to Callie. He'd been keeping a close eye on her and had seen her sadness, fear, and remorse mount as the heated discussion between the adults progressed.

"We're not allowing that to happen, okay? Not without good reason," he repeated for her sake. Callie was staring at him from behind Lena, confusion and discouragement evident on her young face. Realizing they were just spinning their wheels and there was nothing more they could do beyond simply waiting, he reached a hand out towards her. It was time to wrap this up.

"Cal, it'll all get sorted. Come on. Let's go find your brother and see if he remembered to save us any treats," Bill suggested, grateful when she accepted and stood to follow him.

* * *

 **A/N:**

How do you think Callie is holding up through all this?

(I should point out that I paint a far sunnier picture of the relationship children in care would typically have with their Case Worker. I think it would be rare for Bill to have been with Callie and Jude from the beginning. In Canada (as I'm sure is the case in the US too), our Case Workers are invaluable to the children they're assigned to. They're responsible for advocating/coordinating for care needs and ensuring housing, education, lifeskills, health, and socioemotional needs are being met. Unfortunately, our government doesn't invest enough in foster care. What this means is that caseloads have climbed drastically; Case Workers are often overworked, assigned many more people they can effectively manage. They get burnt out and leave the profession, even if they do care about what they do. As a result, kids in crisis fall through the cracks, stuck in unideal situations for a long time before anyone notices. It isn't unusual for children to go through an average of over 1 Case Worker a year. That is appalling.)


	28. Grief, Revisited

**Author Note:**

To those of you in the Northern hemisphere: happy summer! As always, thanks so much for reading and for all your support. Hope you enjoy the shift in focus back to Callie and the Moms. ~b

(This has been completed for a while, but the dialogue was off and I couldn't bring myself to publish. Thank you to the reviewers who asked if Callie's suspension could be plausibly reversed—that sparked an idea that I hope to integrate into a future chapter. It makes sense that Stef and Lena would pursue every avenue possible to protect Callie. Taking away a suspension still leaves the truancy—still technically grounds for remanding into custody over breach of parole. I'd like to point out that if Callie goes back to juvenille detention, it does not mean Jude will be removed. I'm not sure I agree that he doesn't have issues; if anything, I think they're hidden and being younger means his ability to adjust is more malleable compared to Callie's.)

* * *

 **Chapter 26** : Grief, Revisited

It was hard not to feel a twinge of jealousy at seeing Callie and Jude holding hands, looking forlorn as the front door closed behind Bill. The siblings had accompanied him downstairs to say their goodbyes, which consisted of hugs and half-hearted promises to behave themselves.

When prompted for ideas for outings on future visits, their requests had been simple: going to the snack stand at the beach park for hot dogs and Otter Pops, getting new library cards, and tide pooling. The most surprising request was to go to the aquarium, which the women learned actually meant going to a pet store with an aquatic section to look at fish. As they watched the interaction, they hoped that one day, Callie and Jude would be comfortable being open with them about what they wanted and being able to ask for those things.

"Callie? Could we see you in the den please?" Lena called. While the kids had been finishing up their home visit, she and Stef had put away the banker's boxes, including the one from Bill's car. Until they had a chance to go through the contents, the only items they were comfortable passing on were the cassettes.

Callie had already made it up to the first landing when she heard Lena. She froze, considering the possibility that she had raised the ire of the women. It made sense that they wouldn't be happy with her. After all, her actions had caused Bill to come over, and Stef and Lena to argue with him. She was also in crap with her PO—something she hadn't expected would happen over skipping school—and she knew they would not be happy with her for that, either.

Frantically, she thought of how she had responded to Bill's questions and how she could've answered better before giving up. They had talked a lot about different things and it was difficult to remember all the details.

Dreading what was next, Callie forced herself to take a few steps forward despite wanting to run in the opposite direction. Last time she had disobeyed had not ended well and she was anxious to avoid a repeat of that.

 _How mad could they be?_ Stef and Lena knew exactly what she had done to get suspended, she was sure of it. Still, the cop had still stuck up for her with Bill which left her even more confused.

"Hey Bug? You still there?" This time, it was Stef.

Waffling over what the best course of action would be, Callie turned on her heel. Just then, Stef walked out of the den toward the stairwell, catching her off guard. Stopping herself abruptly so it wouldn't look like she was avoiding them, though that was precisely what she was doing, she nearly tripped over herself in the process.

"There you are," Stef said, perplexed by her daughter's flustered demeanour. "Where are you off to?"

"To—uhm—brush my teeth…" Callie stammered. Her voice inflected involuntarily, stripping the statement of the little confidence she hoped to convey.

"Oh, well that's a good idea. I forgot about the candy," the cop praised, frowning. Teeth brushing was normally something she and her wife had to repeatedly remind all their kids about, and Callie's sudden initiative surprised her. "Why don't you brush after dinner? We're pretty close to eating."

She winked at her daughter, who gave a small nod at the suggestion. "Come into the den, love. Mama and I want to talk to you."

"Kay."

Her frown deepened as Callie immediately began to walk down the steps. Something was definitely up. Despite the cheerful-sounding words, Callie's smile was forced. And though she'd been close enough to hear them, she had chose not to respond right away. Figuring that the fatigue and stress of back-to-back visits with Bill was finally catching up with her, Stef could only hope that they'd be able to turn things around.

* * *

In spite of their own excitement, Stef and Lena purposely kept things vague so that they wouldn't give anything away. But they soon found themselves second-guessing if that was the right decision when they noticed just how nervous and worried their daughter was. Callie was slowly rocking side-to-side on her feet and intermittently fidgeting her fingers against her thighs.

"Do these look familiar to you at all?" Lena asked as her daughter stared at her worriedly before breaking off eye contact.

Callie swallowed as her eyes darted back to the freezer bag the woman held in her hands. _Why would they look familiar?_ she thought, wracking her brain.

"No," she whispered as dread began to fill her belly. _Great._ Not only was she gonna get it, but it just had to be over stuff she had no clue about.

"It's not mine, I swear. I—I've never seen it before," Callie insisted, shaking her head to corroborate her answer. She hadn't taken that from anyone! Instinctively, she took a step backwards before lowering her head. "You have to believe me," she added softly, hoping that Stef and Lena would give her another chance even though she had lost their trust in a big way.

The cop's frown deepened. She had been studying her daughter carefully during this interaction when it dawned on her that Callie was afraid she had done something wrong.

It was time to call this whole thing off; as much as she and Lena had envisioned this news going in a very different direction, neither were willing to scare her any more than she already was. Especially not after the conversation about her not abiding by her parole conditions, which Stef knew had shaken her up.

Lena nodded slowly at the concerned look her wife gave her. They needed to tell Callie.

"You sure, Bug? Bill set them aside for you…he thought you might want them back," Stef hinted, smiling kindly as Callie eyed her with genuine curiosity.

* * *

The cassettes inside were all the same type—a plain, graphite colour with a narrow label. Manipulating the plastic so she could make out the writing, Callie read _(4) The Princess and the Pea…(7) The Little Mermaid._ There were easily another ten more in there, each with a number and story title.

As fascinated as Callie was with the items, her emotions left her confused. She felt almost giddy at the familiar sight, but she couldn't quite pinpoint where she'd seen them before. Not until she realized that Stef had dropped her a huge hint by telling her that these were from Bill. Slowly, she let her gaze settle on what Lena was holding.

 _Ohhh!_

For the first time in what seemed like ages, a smile graced the young girl's features. Perhaps feeling shy, she snapped her head down but it wasn't before Stef and Lena caught her beaming at the discovery.

"Thanks!" Callie breathed, looking up again. This time, it was to stare at the women in amazement and gratitude. She couldn't believe she had forgotten all about them.

The memory came fast now.

 _"I'm sorry. Clothes and shoes first before toys, okay?" Bill said as he removed the stuffed animals, dolls, books and tapes, and a blouse that probably belonged to Colleen's from the duffle bag. Gently, he pried the bottle of shampoo from her hands. "Don't worry about soap and toothbrushes."_

 _Callie frowned. Bill's eyes were unblinking and shimmering and she didn't understand why he was sad._

 _He sighed heavily as the eight-year-old glowered at him suspiciously before she started putting all of those things back in. She and her preschool-aged brother had not spoken two words to him since he arrived, though they accepted the juice boxes he had brought._

 _"Callie," he said, putting a hand on top of her's to stop her. This time, he knew she was listening to him because she didn't wrench her hand away to continue doing what she wanted to._

 _"It's hard to choose between so many things that are important to you. But if you pack the things you need first, I promise that I'll help you and Jude repack so we can find some room for the stuff you want, okay? Deal?"_

The cop's words rescued her from her thoughts. "Something the matter, Cal?"

The sudden departure from Callie's brief moment of happiness had not gone unnoticed. As quickly as her daughter's face had lit up, it had fallen in a shadow of disappointment.

Callie shrugged, trying to hide her regret. The stories were essentially useless at this point in her life. It was stupid, given that she didn't even like them anymore. But it wasn't just that she had outgrown them—it was that she couldn't even listen to them if she wanted to.

She wore a fake smile before giving up; it was exhausting to pretend and she was more tired than she thought. "I guess it's kinda too late now," Callie replied glumly. She shrugged, not sure how else to explain how she felt.

"Honey, I'm not sure I understand. Why is it too late?" Stef questioned gently, exchanging a concerned glance with her wife. Of all the reactions she had imagined, that one hadn't been one of them.

"I'm too old now," Callie said, giving another nonchalant shrug. "Plus you need one of those players and I don't think they exist anymore." Her tone bordered on a whine—giving away that she was frustrated, tired, or both.

It upset her even more that she couldn't help her disappointment from seeping in. And not only was she confused by why she was so attached to fairy tales, but she felt embarrassed at having been found out.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you, Callie. Maybe you should think again," Stef said, giving the girl a wink. She was fairly certain that there was an old RCA or Sanyo player out in the garage that was still functional. True, maybe Callie was getting to be a bit old for fairy tales but it was obvious that the stories had meant something to her and some point—and still did. Stef couldn't wait to pop them in for her.

She smiled, finding it hard to believe that there had ever been a time her tomboy relished in these stories. Before reality doled out a harsh lesson that happy endings were never a guarantee.

"Really?" Callie asked, brightening up considerably. "You got a player?"

" _Maayyybe,"_ Stef singsonged. "I may _have_ one," she said, slipping in the correction. "But I'm not saying anything else until you, _young lady_ , tell me why you think they wouldn't exist anymore," she reproached playfully. A grin was quickly spreading across Callie's face as the girl debated whether she should pass up the opportunity to get in a good dig at her.

Her daughter's mischievous side won. "Because. They're extinct," Callie replied with a glint in her eye. "Most people who own those things aren't like, alive anymore." She could barely manage speaking as she clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Wha—ex _cuse me?"_ Stef said incredulously, putting a hand over her heart to feign hurt as Callie finally gave up, dissolving into unrestrained laughter.

"Alright. Into the garage with you! Now!" Stef ordered, turning the girl by the shoulders and steering her toward the kitchen. Never before had she been so grateful to get her cheeky girl back and she was hopeful that they were finally turning a corner.

She regretted getting her hopes up so quickly as Callie immediately became quiet and somber.

"Can I keep them?" she asked carefully.

"Of course you may, sweetheart," Lena confirmed. She took a step forward to grasp the girl by her upper arms so that Callie was now sandwiched between her and her wife. After all this time, she was shocked at her daughter's assumption that she would be pressured to discard belongings she had just managed to have returned to her. "They're your's," she emphasized, pulling Callie in close to kiss her on the forehead.

Stef leaned over Callie's shoulder to peer at her. She, too, had been unsettled by the question. "If they're important to you, they're important to Mama and I. We will find space for them," she said reassuringly, relieved when she felt the tension leave Callie's body.

Her daughter nodded. "Can I…I mean, may I—borrow your cassette player for a little while?"

"Sure thing." The cop smiled sadly as she gave Callie's arm a reassuring squeeze. "And you know what, you could even have it if you want," she offered.

"I _can?"_ the girl asked, bewildered.

It truly felt like they still had a ways to go.

* * *

"Now. I can't promise this will work but let's give it a try," Stef said, dusting off the dual deck RCA player and plugging it in. "After all, like you said, this is defunct technology and I'm supposed to be dead," she quipped as Callie winced with embarrassment. " _Really,_ Callie…" She knit her eyebrows in exaggerated disapproval, resulting in another giggle from the young girl.

"Go for it," the cop encouraged. "Do you know which way it goes?"

Her worries were for nothing. Callie carefully placed it, edge side up, into the tape deck and closed the door before pressing _play._ It had already been rewound and for awhile there was the familiar rustling of the tape going but without anything recorded.

Callie tried to hide her disappointment as they neared a minute of silence without anything coming on. It was only fairy tales, she told herself.

"No worries, there's another one here we can try," Stef said, pulling down the spare that was sitting on the shelf right above.

The audio kicked in just as she succeeded in untangling the power cord.

 _"Ugh. I don't think this is working_." The woman's voice was smooth and baritone, but very much exasperated.

 _"It is, you're recording. The light's on. Get close to the mic,"_ a man responded patiently.

 _"You said that last time and we only found out when we were a few pages in."_

 _"I know, Babe, I'm sorry… Probably should've double-checked that. If it doesn't work again I promise I'll read the entire story."_ There was a rustling and the familiar sound of a kiss. _"She's gonna love this."_

Callie frowned as the feeling of deja vu crept over her. These people sounded oddly familiar.

In the background, an infant began to fuss and the woman groaned. _"Shoot. I'm never going to get this finished in time for Callie's birthday."_

"Mama?" Callie whispered in disbelief, immediately tearing up.

She'd completely forgotten about the stories. Transported back to a time when she used to lie on her stomach on the rug, arms propped underneath her with the anthology on the floor in front of her, she felt all at once safe and warm.

 _"I'll get him."_ The footsteps against the hardwood got quieter as they retreated into the background. _"Hey little man. Let's get you a bottle."_ At being picked up, Jude began to babble happily.

A lump formed in Stef's throat at hearing the young, doting parents. Despite Colleen's annoyance at the unexpected interruption, her commitment to her daughter's birthday present was thoughtful and maternal. Stef figured that at the time of the recording, Callie must have been five if Jude was still young enough that he wasn't yet able to talk.

 _"Sorry about that, Buggy Boo, but Mama's not gonna try to start this one over again. Can't believe you're turning six, my big girl! Can't wait to see what you'll discover in Grade One and all the places you'll go. Please just promise me you won't try to grow up too fast, alright?"_

 _"Anyways, my First Grader…Now that you're a whole year older, I bet that you can start reading your favourite stories on your own, even when I can't be there right away. I know you much you love hearing them and being able to do things by yourself. Make sure you follow along with your book."_

Colleen cleared her throat before turning the page over. " _This is the story of Thumbelina… There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child but she could not obtain her wish. At last, she went to a fairy and said, I should so very much like to have a little child. Can you tell me where I can find one?" Her prose was clear and measured, intended for Callie to be able to follow along._

 _"OHHH! THAT CAN BE EASILY MANAGED said the fairy!"_ Don chimed in with gusto and flamboyance.

Initially, Stef had tried to temper her own reaction, not wanting to do anything that would take away from the treasured moment. But once Callie erupted into peals of laughter, she could no longer hold it together. Soon, her restrained chuckles gave way to full-blown, bellyaching laughs that hurt her sides. In Donald's exuberant imitation of a fairy, he had forced his voice as high-pitched as it would go. Stef rolled her eyes, amused and patronized at his notion of how women sounded. Still, she cherished the opportunity to see him dote on his one and only daughter and the effect he had had on her.

* * *

Callie's muddled emotions were palpable as she tried to reconcile her happiness at hearing her mother's voice with the disappointment that was slowly seeping in. The dichotomy must've been unexpected, indicated by the confusion that was etched into her expression.

Stef could see why. Less than a week ago, Callie had been so upset with herself for not being able to remember what Colleen sounded like. For once, she was able to have something that, until now, she had never thought possible.

However, it was also a cruel reminder. This was as close as Callie would get to her Mom, and it didn't seem fair. Not just that, but it was far from being good enough.

Stef kicked herself for not having reviewed the tapes beforehand. Had she known, she would've asked Lena to come into the garage with them. Her greatest worry was missing the opportunity to help Callie process her grief. Which meant not allowing her to run from it in the way she was so skilled at.

Her heart clenched as she watched the conflict play out for Callie—it was even harder because she strongly suspected that her daughter didn't understand why she felt the way she did. As much as the cop wanted to wrap her arms around her, she forced herself to hold the space to give Callie a chance to decide what she needed at this time.

The girl wouldn't make eye contact, but her effort to keep it together was evident. She hastily wiped her eyes as her breathing became more and more shallow.

Unable to take it anymore, Callie stopped the tape. That hug the cop had offered her the other day was sounding pretty good now. However, after turning her down, she didn't want to bank on getting another.

* * *

Stef was about to say something, unwilling to let this go on. The young girl standing before her was shifting uncomfortably in place, obviously uncertain of what to do with herself. Finally, Callie met her gaze, letting out a sigh that caused her shoulders to sag.

She smiled sadly at her daughter, who had finally stopped trying to pretend that she was okay.

"Come here, baby girl. Come here, my love," she murmured, seeing Callie's face drop before it crumpled completely. She gathered the young girl protectively into her arms, grateful to feel her reciprocating the hug. For the first time in days, there was no resistance; not only that but Callie had willingly come to her.

The cop let a few minutes go by before she dared to speak. "Let it out…let it out. I've got you," she consoled as Callie began to cry softly. She rested her palm against her daughter's head, pulling her in close to her chest. A desperate, instinctive wish to shield her from all that weighed on her.

"Did you remember that your Mama recorded these stories for you?"

Callie shook her head. "Only when it started p—playing." Her words were shuddered, muffled from the way she was buried into the crook of Stef's elbow. "I guess I forgot about them. But I—I remember now and that she rec—or—orded it 'c—cause I didn't like to r—re—ad."

"What an amazing Mom she was…"

Callie nodded, no longer bothering to hide her tears. "There was this book that went with it, so I could start to read on my own. Jude and I, we were allowed to take it with us—the book, I mean—when we went to the first home. Not the cassettes. But after we moved around some, Bill said we couldn't keep it anymore. We had to give up some stuff c—cause we had to go to a smaller place. I guess it got th—thrown away," she explained as her crying intensified, turning more hiccupped. There was truly a part of her that wished she hadn't been reminded of this. Suddenly, all those familiar feelings from the very first time she was told to give up what little possessions she had remaining were dredged up.

At a loss for words, Stef slightly rocked the both of them from side-to-side, caressing Callie's head affectionately with a free hand.

"What if Mama and I tried to find you a copy of that book? How does that sound?" she proposed when Callie quieted. It didn't seem like it'd be that hard, actually. All they'd have to do would be to find one that had all the right stories in it, which they could ensure by listing out the titles. There was also a possibility that it was in the bankers boxes she and Lena had just put away but she new better than to make promises without being sure.

"It's okay. It's not gonna be the same," Callie pointed out in a whisper that was barely there. She remembered the thick, glossy pages with their muted watercolour illustrations, and the maroon hardcover with the embossed dust jacket. She doubted there would be another one like it.

"No, it won't. But we might be able to find something with all the stories—"

"How come I couldn't have them when I needed them?" Callie asked in a small voice.

Considering how cautious and quiet her daughter had been around her, the cop had never been so grateful for the unexpected interruption.

The question was a tearful plea—an attempt to understand an experience no child should have to go through. It was not about the tapes or the book, but instead, what they represented for Callie. In no way did Stef plan on suggesting that, though. This was a truth that Callie needed to uncover for herself and she had a feeling that that was going to happen sooner than later.

"I know, sweetness. I know. That wasn't fair. I wish you could've had them too." She rested her cheek against her daughter's head, taking deep breaths intermittently into her hair. A gesture she hoped would prevent Callie from getting any more worked up than she already was. "I cannot imagine what that must have been like to have to pick between belongings that meant so much to you."

"They were important! I—I needed them, but Bill— he said no," Callie told the woman. "Clothes and shoes first before toys," she said matter-of-factly before letting out a sad chuckle. That rule seemed every bit as arbitrary today as it did when she was eight.

"I'm guessing that this was just one way she showed her love for you, Callie. You lost these things for a while, but that doesn't mean you lost her love," the cop suggested, being careful about how her comments might come across.

She swallowed, pointing to the Ziploc despite her worry that she was pushing her luck. "Her love wasn't in the tapes, baby."

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that your Mama loved you so much, with all her heart—and that kind of love sticks with you no matter what. It's been with you all these years. Her love has never _once_ left you—it wasn't _ever_ lost, baby," the cop murmured. "That's what made you so strong and brave and kind and compassionate. No one can ever take that love away from you, I promise you."

"It's not the same," Callie said, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out. She was getting upset again. Not only because Stef was challenging her, but because she knew there was some truth to what the woman was saying.

"I needed _her_ and she wasn't there for me!" she said bitterly, unintentionally making the connection on her own before realizing the significance of her words.

Callie suddenly felt as alone and left behind as she had when her Mom hadn't showed up after the beating she'd received from Jeanine. That same pit in her stomach as when she first awoke the morning after was back. She remembered how she had kept her eyes closed for a long time, hoping against hope that her Mama would be in the doorway. All the while building the courage to prepare herself to let go…to accept that she wouldn't be there waiting with her kind smile and open arms to tell her everything would be okay. That she was sorry she was late and had come to get her and Jude and it was time to go home.

"No, it's not the same. I'm sorry if it sounded like I was implying it was the same. I know that having her voice when you needed her would've made a world of difference," Stef said softly as she let Callie pull away from her.

Callie swiped the back of her hand against her nose before staring at her. She nodded solemnly; that Stef had been able to say out loud what she couldn't find the words to felt like a weight being lifted off her chest.

As if she was able to take a full breath in a long time.


	29. A Difference of Opinion

**Author Note:**

Almost 100,000 words! Thanks so much for sticking around and for your encouragement. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect IUW to go this far—but writing it has been so good for me (and you all have been so good _to_ me) that I hope to enjoy it for as long as I can. I have so many goals for it before it ends, like trying new writing techniques and increasing my confidence. I did some experimenting with this next installment and hope it turned out okay. And if it's a flop, hope it's not too unforgivable.

To clarify, Stef and Lena _are_ aware that physical and emotional abuse happened (Chapter 4) but do not know many of the specifics. This will all come to light soon. As well, a heads up that we won't hear from Callie in the next chapter (things just got too long and the chapter needed dividing). Take care of yourselves, ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 27:** A Difference of Opinion

After the day they'd just had, Stef was consumed with worry. Callie had been exceptionally quiet throughout dinner, blending seamlessly into the background of the rest of the family. Jude, who loyally followed in his sister's footsteps, had also withdrawn and was much less talkative than his usual self. For the first time in a month, he had shaken his head and politely turned down seconds when offered. Not even Jesus's goading could change his mind.

Though it was discouraging to have her daughter shy away from her mere hours after opening up about her Mom, Stef figured that the experience had probably overwhelmed her. In the garage, she had wiped away the girl's tears and held her until she stopped crying. However, shortly after, Callie had asked to be alone and she relented.

In the post-dinner routine of kitchen cleanup, lunch prep, and backpack checks, Callie managed to slip away unnoticed. Peering into the dark room, Stef cursed under her breath at the missed opportunity to check in on how she was doing and to tuck her in. It was something she and Lena had done for their newest kids each night without fail. But lately, it seemed like they couldn't hang on to the stability of routine no matter how hard they tried.

What made things worse was not having Lena to confide in. Having reached an impasse on the incident report, resentment only continued to brew between them. Interactions were strained, punctuated by snide remarks and petty arguments, and dishes that were placed into the sink a little too loudly. It was the longest fight they'd ever been in—one that left her feeling hurt, worried for their relationship, but beyond that, isolated and unwanted in her own home.

Stef, who had been relieved when Bill finished the interview with the siblings without any concerns, couldn't fathom why her wife wouldn't budge on her stance in spite of the concerns laid out at the family meeting. While Stef fully accepted Callie's right to tell her Case Worker that she'd received a spanking while in their care and would fully support her if that's what it came to, this was not a process the cop was willing to initiate on her own. Given the Parole Officer's current scrutiny, Stef wouldn't risk additional repercussions on her daughter's behalf if they could be avoided.

 _"We're supposed to document everything—appointments, even field-trips and haircuts. If you believe you did nothing wrong, what are you afraid of?" Lena argued, staking out the garage from the window. The thought of Callie being left alone in her grief upset her but they'd promised her space as long as she asked and they couldn't renege on that._

 _"I already told you, I'm afraid that it wouldn't be in her best interest. DSS is not going to be overly concerned over what happened, especially not when they hear of the precipitating factors—what Callie was doing right before. You heard Bill! Her PO is already watching her closely. If we report this, we give ammo to his case that Callie should be remanded into custody. Is that what you want?"_

 _"Of course that's not what I want!" Lena shot back, annoyed. "But fearing what might potentially happen shouldn't preclude our obligation to abide by the rules and to do the RIGHT THING, which is to be honest about what's taken place. If there are legal consequences to Callie's actions then we stand by her, like we are anyways."_

 _"The right thing to do for WHO? Callie—or you?" Stef demanded impatiently. "The only one at a disadvantage by reporting is Callie. You gotta trust me on this, Lena. I know what's at stake; I've worked as a beat cop for over two decades. Of course we'll stand by Callie no matter what, I never ever disputed that, love. But we might not have that right if we lose custody of her, or if she goes back to youth detention."_

 _"Our support can only go so far. Ignoring that is naive. It's ludicrous," she explained softly, hoping she would be heard._

 _She sighed as her wife wiped away tears. "Lena, where is this coming from? I…I just don't understand why we can't agree on this. It feels like you're making a moral argument without accounting for the facts of the situation," she gently pointed out. "I'm not prepared to throw Callie to the wolves so we can say we followed the rules to a T. I'm just not, Lena! I'd never be able to sleep at night knowing that we pulled the rug out from under her, not when she and Jude finally have some stability in their lives. You SAW how terrified she was when Bill brought up her probation…I don't want to put her through more of that."_

 _"And you're saying that I'd sleep soundly over this? I KNOW she's scared, but by hiding this, we've essentially sent Callie the message that she has no voice!"_

 _"She has a voice! She chose not to disclose!" Stef shot back._

 _"It's not on Callie to make things right! Callie isn't the adult here! And you know just as well as I do that her choice to keep this from Bill wasn't one that was informed," Lena countered bitterly. "What's unfair is that we wouldn't be in this mess had it not been for you! You know what the procedure is; we're both mandatory reporters. If this comes out later, it won't reflect well on us."_

 _Stef slammed the dirty serving spoon down on the countertop she had just scrubbed. She was done. "That's a bit rich, coming from you! You had NO problem with me sweeping everything she's done under the rug up until now. But now that you disagree with how I've handled things, you want that documented! Being a parent is about doing things we don't like for the sake of our children's wellbeing!"_

 _"EXACTLY, Stef! Being a parent is about doing the right thing even when we don't necessarily like it because that's what's best! I'm essentially in agreement—"_

 _"Exactly which part are you agreeing with, Lena? You don't get to pick and choose when we go by the rules and when we don't, then turn around and tell me that procedures need to be followed!"_

 _"This is different! Callie is used to being mistreated. She's scared and she's confused. You need to make it clear to her that you were wrong."_

 _The cop threw her hands up in the air in abject frustration. "You know what? Fine! I was wrong! I should've reported her for the marijuana the first time I caught her with it! Then we wouldn't have had to deal with the running away or her going into the gun safe. None of that would've happened, because she wouldn't have been able to stay with us—she would've been booked for possession and breach of parole, then and there. But since we're telling Bill, we might as well be honest about everything. THAT'S what following procedure looks like, Lena! THAT'S what you're saying is in her best interest!"_

* * *

Stef tossed and turned that night, unable to shut her mind off. Her worry over the mess Callie had gotten herself into and her frustration with the Parole Officer had only mounted. The more time she had to process, the more she perseverated on the information that had been discussed at the family meeting. She also knew that the entire experience had probably left Callie shaken as the repercussions started to sink in.

As a cop, she understood why any disregard of the conditions of release would be a concern to the Department of Juvenile Justice and knew the urgency in getting Callie to toe the line. But she disagreed with the notion that a remand into custody was the right thing to do. In this case, it felt like more time in the correctional system would do more harm than good.

Unfortunately, it looked as though this was what they intended to pursue. The devil was in the details. Wanting an updated risk management plan that included increased monitoring. Highlighting non-participation in group intervention and insinuating low potential for success. Requesting assessment for a behavioural disorder to justify potential recommendation for a school that was more _facility._ All of this was intended to show Callie needed more management and to build a case that she was not appropriate for living in the community.

Admittedly, Stef had her own biases of the youth criminal justice system. It wasn't just because it was Callie, who was now a member of the family. She had a fundamental issue with youth incarceration knowing that outcomes were poor in the transition to reintegration. Youth with mental health issues and learning difficulties were overrepresented in secure facilities. That was a fact. There was now growing recognition that incarcerated youth, as a whole, formed one of the most vulnerable populations in the United States.

Juvenile delinquency programs that were supposed to prepare inmates for reintegration focused on education, life skills training, and counselling—while failing to acknowledge that youth would often return to the same, disadvantaged situations they were used to. Not having a warm, nurturing environment made everything harder. It made what little skills they'd been taught in juvie virtually useless.

At work, these observations would unfold in realtime. Minors she needed to have a discussion with or detain often already had a criminal record, time served, or were those she'd encountered as young versions of themselves. They were more likely to have lived in chaotic households, been exposed to domestic violence, lack a cohesive support system, and have complex trauma. It wasn't difficult for these factors to surpass a youth's limited capacity to cope, resulting in unhealthy behaviours to deal with the stress.

Stakes were even higher for youth trying to escape violence at home—trying to survive. Cutting, substance use, running away, stealing, prostitution, and trafficking were some examples of poor coping and poor coping. Caught up with more pressing stressors, school and graduation were often pushed to the back burner. No one had consistently emphasized the importance of attendance and supported their educational goals, and youth— _children—_ couldn't look far enough into the future to see benefits.

It was a vicious cycle. These behaviours increased the risk of repeated encounters with the police who, like the courts, were more likely to be harsher on those with records and arrest them. This contributed to high rates of recidivism, which shunted youth back into the system where they would be traumatized all over again.

There were success stories but over decades of policing, there weren't many that stood out. For the most part, it was the same story—just different people playing different parts at any given time.

It was a narrative the cop no longer wanted Callie to have a part in. She'd fight to make sure of it.

Taken within the context of the last five years, Callie had displayed remarkable resilience. She took pride in her schoolwork, made strong grades, and though adamantly against college, did want to finish high school. Her social group was small and it appeared as though Callie had distanced herself from nearly everyone in the court-ordered group except for a handful of peers. It made Stef nervous but Callie had never asked to hang out with any of them outside of group and she wasn't going to encourage it.

In no way was Stef naive, however. There were risk factors that took the form of having an incarcerated parent and having done time herself; premature loss of parents coupled with unresolved grief; a likely abuse and neglect history; and the trauma related to each and everyone of these.

Callie also had a bit of a disobedient streak but she was not malicious or violent by any stretch of imagination. Had it not been for her record, skipping and experimenting with pot wouldn't have been considered breaking parole. Rather, they'd be seen as things most kids end up being guilty of at one time or another. Often it seemed that her misbehaviour occurred because she felt threatened; faced with limited coping skills and lack of foresight, she avoided and would deal in the only ways she knew how. A part of Stef couldn't fault her for that.

What was needed was consistent direction in a safe, loving environment where Callie could feel secure enough to practice, make mistakes, and grow. None of those were things detainment could offer.

* * *

Lost in thought, the footsteps making their way into the bedroom hadn't registered until Stef felt a hand shaking her shoulder.

"Callie's having a bad dream or something." Sitting up, she saw Mariana waiting to subsume her spot under the covers. The cop sighed, letting her head drop back onto the pillow one last time before getting up to fumble for her pyjama bottoms. Ever since becoming parents, it seemed as though a good night's sleep had consistently evaded them.

Considering all the talk about parole and the emotions around the discovery of Colleen's tapes, Stef had suspected that this would happen. She silently berated herself for bragging that the children's nightmares had begun to clear and having to eat her words.

Lena also started to get up. "Honey, I should go this time," she offered. "Why don't you get some rest?" It was probably the kindest she'd been toward her wife all day.

Her intent was to allow Stef a break since she had always been the one doing night shift with Callie. Not having been in the garage with them earlier, she also wanted to spare her wife's feelings in case their daughter's wariness returned.

But there was insecurity there, too. All day, Lena had wondered how much her taking the back seat with Callie had contributed to the situation. The one in which Stef felt like she had no choice but to settle for a parenting decision she wasn't happy with in order to manage the escalating misbehaviour. Trying to convince her wife to stay behind would be far from easy, however.

" _Mama, nooo._ I always stay with you!" Mariana whined sleepily.

"Geezus," the cop muttered under her breath. Her youngest daughter's rejection instantly brought on worries that Callie might not accept her or worse, let her help her. In the midst of her own self-doubt, Lena's well-meaning words were anything but. Determined to see Callie through her nightmare, she walked out of the room before Lena could get dressed.

* * *

The door had been left wide open. As she entered the room, Stef could make out Callie's outline sitting up, huddled against one of her pillows.

" _Sweetheart._ Let's turn on your lamp," she murmured. She fumbled around for the face towel she kept on the bedside table for the sole purpose of placing over the lampshade to mellow the harsh bulb.

In the dim light, the woman saw the matted eyelashes and puffy, flushed cheeks that were partially obscured by the pillow. Callie's body trembled and she was desperately trying to catch her breath in between gasps. It was then that Stef spotted a dark fluid stain all over the front of her pyjama top, side of pillow, and sheets. Judging by the smell, it was vomit.

"Did your other pyjama set not make it into yesterday's wash?" she muttered to herself as she went through the messy dresser drawer. "Oh no—we're good—found them," she said with relief. She pulled a freshly laundered sleep-set from the dresser before approaching the bed.

"Hey, it's okay. These things happen," Stef reassured as Callie hung her head in embarrassment. "It's not your fault and you're not in any trouble, love, I promise."

After many, many nights of this, Stef understood where the girl's consternation came from. Sitting further down on the bed to avoid crowding her, she placed the clothes between them before reaching over to feel her forehead. It wasn't unusual for her daughter to throw up after a bad nightmare but she always checked for fever out of habit, anyway.

Callie nestled up closer to the pillow as she rubbed the skin right under her sternum. Her heart was like a hammer against the cavity of her chest, making her incredibly nauseous. She closed her eyes, finding it hurt to keep them open; they were grainy as they usually were when she woke at night.

Although she recognized only concern in the look her foster mother had given her, she couldn't bring herself to face her. Not only had she woken people up on a school night, but it was after her actions had resulted in Bill having to come visit.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she apologized sincerely, her voice thick with sleep.

"There's absolutely no need to be sorry, Bug. We've talked about this. Mama and I are available to each and every one of you—yes, including you, even at night," Stef replied sympathetically. Her heart sank when Callie simply shook her head and drew in a shuddered breath.

It dawned on her that Callie assumed she was in trouble. In the span of a few hours, her daughter's insecurity had somehow returned in full force. And it probably meant she'd be unwilling to let the cop give her a hand.

Stef was grateful when Lena appeared at the door. _Help,_ she mouthed, finally accepting she needed help with the situation. Night air was coming in through the window; Callie had begun to shiver from the damp shirt against her skin and beads of sweat on her skin that were quickly cooling. Fairly certain that her daughter wouldn't allow her to come any closer, Stef decided not to push it.

As her wife helped Callie into fresh clothes, the cop distracted herself by searching for new sheets. It hurt that Callie had returned to keeping her at arm's length, so much so that she refused assistance from her even when she needed it.

Since Friday, Stef had accepted that her daughter's cautiousness around her wouldn't be resolved easily. Still, it was disappointing after having a couple good days together—to go from Callie making fun of her age and opening up to her in the garage. Like getting her to eat something each morning, both of those events had been big steps. Unfortunately, Callie was afraid of her all over again.

* * *

Needing to get Callie out of bed to strip the sheets, the women managed to coax her downstairs with a Milo as incentive. Lena had originally balked at the idea until Stef pointed out that a cup of hot milk and malt were full of nutrients and would help bring on sleep. It was how the cop ended up in the kitchen—following strict instructions to microwave milk at fifteen second intervals to avoid curdling it.

Lena fluffed the pillow before holding up the corner of the sheet so Callie could get in. Noticing that the girl had socks on, she piled on an extra throw and pulled the sheets up high around her shoulders before sitting on the couch to face her. She'd become increasingly concerned at her daughter's body language. Callie had kept her head ducked, avoiding every single attempt she made at eye contact. Not only that, but as she transformed the couch into a bed, the girl had awkwardly approached then retreated a few times. Now tucked in and captive to Lena's full attention, she looked more uncomfortable than ever as she settled into the pillow and curled her arms underneath the blanket.

"Do you feel comfortable telling me what your nightmare was about?"

"Talking about it won't make it real…in fact, it might help you feel better," she tried again when Callie only shook her head slightly and gave her a shy smile. "Whatever happened wasn't real, no matter how much it may have felt like it."

"You're safe here with us," she soothed. "You know that, right?" Her stomach plummeted as the young girl scrutinized her, frowning in uncertainty. For the first time, she noticed her distress and the unshed tears. _When did her daughter start mistrusting her, too?_

"I can't help if I don't know what's going on, honey," Lena encouraged. Things were far from okay. She reached for the Kleenex as her daughter began to cry softly. Quickly, Callie buried her face in both hands before curling onto her side to face the back of the couch.

"Don't do that, don't hide," the woman said. She gently maneuvered Callie by the shoulders to bring her back towards her and help her sit up. Folding a tissue in half, she handed it over to Callie, who in her usual endearing way, crumpled it before using.

"What's this about? What's this about?" Lena murmured, completely at a loss. Whatever this was, seemed like it was more than a nightmare.

"Is it something to do with Bill coming over?" she ventured a guess. She was relieved when Callie nodded reluctantly, glad to have at least narrowed down the source of her daughter's unhappiness.

"I don't want to go back," Callie whispered fearfully, breaking Lena's heart with the disclosure. She had fully expected Callie to be afraid of being taken back into custody but was surprised to hear the admission.

"I know. I know," she empathized. She swept Callie's hair away from her forehead before taking the soggy tissue from her. The tears came steadily, trickling down her face and dropping onto the blanket faster than they could be wiped away. "Here, let me help you honey…" she fussed, pulling a fresh one from the box.

God it upset her that she wasn't able to give Callie the finality she was looking for at this moment. "You're going to take it one step at a time but you're not going to be alone in this, alright? We will be there to walk alongside you as long as you want us to—even if you don't want us too," she admitted, smiling painfully. It was the best she could offer at this time, though it was far from being good enough.

As much as Lena wanted to quell the young girl's fears, she couldn't promise her that she wouldn't go anywhere without knowing what would happen. For the first time, she felt scared and nervous for Callie. Things truly felt like they were out of their hands.

She could see her wife's point now—the one about how she'd been painfully dogmatic about the incident report. Her daughter had just told her that she didn't want to go back to juvie and she wondered if it was Callie telling her, in her own way, that she didn't want to leave their home.

She sighed, knowing then that it was time to put her feelings aside. Stef was right; it wasn't worth disrupting Callie's sense of security any more than it already had, just so that she could tell herself she had done the right thing. Doing the right thing _now_ wouldn't erase what had happened. In fact, it'd likely do more harm.

"Stef's mad at me," Callie mumbled in a discouraged tone. She felt overwhelmed. Her heart pounded hard against her chest and she felt completely discombobulated as she always did when she woke up after having slept only a few hours.

"You think Mom's mad at you?" Lena reflected, utterly confused. She was certain that they'd already reminded her several times that neither of them were upset with her. And even though Callie had been fairly cautious around her wife, she also knew that they two of them had shared several lighthearted moments over the weekend. She had heard her laugh and seen her spontaneously poke fun at Stef for her age, even before their time out in the garage.

Then she remembered how livid she and Stef had become when they learned about the PO's intentions, jumping all over Bill for being the unfortunate messenger. How Callie had more than happily sprang from the couch to the Case Worker when he decided to close that part of the conversation. She understood how it could've appeared that they were angry at her.

Callie nodded. "You too," she accused, becoming tearful before Lena could figure out what she could possibly say.

Realizing she didn't need to have an answer just yet, Lena held out her arms tentatively, somewhat afraid of being rejected. After a slight hesitation, Callie relented. Gathering her daughter into her arms, she rubbed her back, humming and shushing to try to calm her down.

"Oh—no, honey. No, no, no…" she consoled. She rocked the both of them slightly as Callie's chin rested in the crook between her neck and shoulder, trying to keep it together. It was always hard for her as a parent to see her children in any sort of pain. The youth's distress was palpable; hot tears traced down her neck and her own body shook as Callie's breaths came out in gasps.

"That must have been so confusing and scary to sit through all of that…I am so, so sorry that Mom and I let it get as far as it did," Lena apologized. "Now that I think about it, we did let it get out of hand. We were a bit caught off guard and responded without thinking about how you might have felt. That wasn't right."

She was grateful when her wife appeared, steaming mugs in hand. Stef needed to hear this.

Catching the tail end of the response, the cop gave Lena a questioning look. She perched on the end of the coffee table closest to the pair, confused at having heard the high-pitched, hiccupped sobs while in the kitchen. Callie, who her wife had managed to console long before heading to the living room, was upset all over again. _What had happened in fifteen minutes?_

She understood when Lena continued. "Mom wasn't mad at you, Bug. I know it looked that way but I bet you she was frustrated with what Bill was telling her. You can ask her, she's right here."

"Oh, Callie. Is that what you think? That I'm upset with you?" Stef questioned, smiling sadly when she caught Callie's gaze from the mass of curls she was hidden behind. "Because I'm _not,_ I promise you, love. I was _not_ mad at you, not _once,_ at that meeting. Got it?" Reaching out to rub Callie's hand affectionately, she was dismayed when her daughter shrank away from the physical contact.

"What have we said to you before?" she asked. "We may have been upset over some of your decisions but all of that has been dealt with. It's over and we're not upset anymore. No matter what you do, no matter how angry we may get with you does not mean we won't support or love you. _Never_ , baby."

Hurt by the girl's reaction, she forced herself to steady the tremor in her voice to mask her feelings. "It's our job to go to bat for you. That's why I got so worked up during our meeting today. I wasn't mad at you—not even at Bill—just at the situation like Mama said. I should've been more careful with my words and thought about how they were coming across. I'm sorry, Bug."

* * *

Callie's reaction to her words left the cop unsettled. The girl had stared vacantly at her before closing her eyes, causing a fresh bout of tears to roll down her cheeks. It wasn't just tiredness; it was that whatever little fight left in her had dissipated. She had given up.

Lena, too, had a feeling that something was gravely wrong. While Callie still had her arms wrapped around her, their grasp had loosened considerably. In fact, she had started to halfheartedly try to extricate herself from the hold the woman had on her.

Callie hardened her heart against the cop's words as she tried to quiet down. Earlier, she'd overheard her foster mother say she regretted not having turned her in sooner. After that, Callie told herself that she'd try harder so she wouldn't make Stef regret her even more than she already did.

 _The women's voices got progressively louder as she walked back to the house. Callie sighed, deciding to head to the front of the house instead and enter through the living room. She already felt embarrassed enough at breaking down in front of Stef and plus, she didn't want to interrupt. It sounded kinda bad and experience had taught her better than to get in between arguing foster parents. Hearing her name, she paused on the stoop and pressed her ear against the door._

 _"That's rich! …sweeping everything she's done under the rug up until now… you disagree with how I've handled things! Being a parent is about doing things we don't like for the sake of our children's wellbeing!"_

 _"EXACTLY, Stef! …that's what's best! I'm essentially in agreement—"_

 _There was a period of muffled voices before she was able to discern what they were saying again._

 _"You don't get to pick and choose when we go by the rules and when we don't!"_

 _Callie swallowed. Against the door, it echoed loudly in her ear. She couldn't make it all out but she'd heard enough to understand. Before she could peel herself off the door, Stef's voice came through. This time, there was no mistaking her words._

 _"I was wrong! I should've reported her for the marijuana the first time I caught her with it! Then we wouldn't have had to deal with the running away or...the gun safe. None of that would've happened, because she wouldn't have been able to stay with us—she would've been booked for possession and breach of parole, then and there…since we're telling Bill, we might as well be honest about everything…THAT'S what's in her best interest!"_

In Callie's mind, it didn't matter that Stef and Lena weren't angry with her anymore. Stef had wanted to send her away—and that had the same time, it was a relief to hear them finally say it out loud. That fear had persisted since moving in; having it confirmed meant that she'd no longer have to go back and forth, doubting the validity of whatever they told her. Sussing out if they were trustworthy.

That the women maintained their story that they'd support her no matter what just made her feel worse. Ashamed, because now she knew that they wished they didn't have her. Callie wondered how annoyed they were now, knowing they were stuck adopting her because it was probably too late to back out.

She bit her lip to internalize a sob as the thought struck her that Stef and Lena were probably looking into reversing the adoption. It had happened before. Adoption Day was just a notation that could be erased from a calendar.

Another tear coursed down her face. That would suck. Because as much as she hated to admit it, she had come to depend on them, and knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to make things better.

She was nothing but a fuckup. _Un-encourage-able_ or _in-courageable…_ something. Whatever her PO had called her once. She never did succeed in looking up the word but had been able to tell by the way he'd spat it out that it wasn't a label people were fighting to have associated with them.

It was something you called someone who was unworthy. Undeserving or unwanted, or whatever.

* * *

Thinking Callie might be afraid of the darkness of the bay window, Stef kept the stove light on and stayed in the living room. She left the window open a crack, knowing that cooling the room temperature even by a few degrees would be conducive to sleep.

Her night shot, she decided to try to get some work done while Lena went back upstairs to clock a few more hours of rest. Every so often, she'd glance over the screen of her ToughBook. Each time, without fail, her heart broke at the sight of silent tears lulling her daughter off to sleep.

When she was sure Callie had finally drifted off, Stef went over quietly. In the dim light, the youth looked more vulnerable than ever with a frown in her brow and cheeks freshly tearstained.

The cop sighed as she adjusted the blankets, gently kissing Callie on the forehead.

"Why can't you have peace even when you're asleep, baby?" she murmured.


	30. Brokerage and Collateral

**Author Note:**

Here's the next instalment, after only three rounds of editing (which is a milestone for me, believe it or not). Many of you have been waiting for this so I hope it's everything you envisioned and more.

This will probably be the darkest chapter I write but it was much needed to set the stage for the rest of the story. All examples have been drawn from real-life, unfortunately. Children who are under the care of the province I live in make up one of the most vulnerable populations in our country; cases of serial mistreatment are extremely common. As much as IUW is fictional, I feel obligated to shed light on this issue. Maybe if more of us made noise, governments would be forced to respond.

Please read with care; descriptions of physical/emotional abuse of children.

* * *

 _Brokerage and Collateral: the collection of information considered helpful to a person's care_

* * *

 **Chapter 28:** Brokerage and Collateral

As Stef and Lena had expected, the process of going through the bankers' boxes was emotional. Unlike adoption portfolio reports and histories, which recounted facts, now there was context that was enriched with stories. Items, like the cassettes, illustrated the children's past in ways that brought them to _life._ It was an invaluable opportunity—one they were incredibly grateful for.

The women had been working their way through the contents together in the evenings, wanting to return as many of Jude and Callie's belongings sooner than later. Especially with the adoption coming up, an anchor that would maintain the siblings' connection with their biological parents was crucial.

They'd also found that having a common goal was helping to mend the fence between them. After Monday's argument, both had been more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie. They started spending more time in each other's vicinity, rather than avoiding each other, as the snarky comments diminished. During one of Stef's late nights, Lena had surprised her with a honey maple ham sandwich, complete with a garlic dill and a cup of tea.

Still, time together was rare. The cop had been working overtime and night shifts when she had the energy to pick them up, in an attempt to catch up on the days she'd been home for Callie's suspension. Lena was organizing parent-teacher conferences for the year and was swamped. Once they finished helping the kids with homework and evening routines, they were exhausted, leaving Stef to wonder when they hell they'd gotten so old. Two nights in, and they'd barely made a dent in those boxes.

Finally, Stef had caved and spoken to the Captain about using her accrued sick days towards time off. Roberts, who had a family-first policy, not only accommodated her request but offered her a paid special leave up to six weeks to be divided up whichever way she and Lena saw fit. This would give them time as a family to deal with everything surrounding the addition of their two newest children.

* * *

Stef lugged all three boxes to the precinct on Wednesday to continue sorting through their contents while off duty as per Roberts' encouragement. Going to work hadn't been the original plan, but after a cursory inspection revealed pests in some of the Ziplocs, she didn't want to risk them getting into their home. This way, she could bleach the surfaces of toys and use the bedbug sauna for the rest.

Without the worry of any of the kids walking in at any moment or having to repackage the items, things were going quicker than Stef had planned. There were three piles going: one for belongings to hand over soon, another to save for later, and another of things she and Lena needed to discuss. Items from the latter groups could be kept in a spare locker, away from prying eyes, until Lena had a chance to look.

She had to hand it to Bill for the obvious care he'd taken with the Jude and Callie's belongings. Each freezer bag was labelled with month and year, indicating when they'd been packed. The majority were from April 2008, right when the siblings had been taken into state custody—likely when Bill entered the Jacob's residence for the final sweep and to clear their name off the lease. Those contained newborn bracelets as well as Colleen's admitting bracelet, sock hats, and the classic pink-and-blue striped swaddle blankets. Cards from birthdays and Christmases throughout the years. Art projects. A Mother's Day craft that was a construction paper heart with little squares of paper glued inside, titled _Love you to pieces, Mama._ First outfits. Clay hand- and foot-prints. The first of Callie's baby teeth to fall out.

The amount of photos were endless. The kids sitting in the bath together with matching bubble beards. A gap-toothed Callie armed with a spoon, ready to dig into whatever sat on the plate in front of her. Another of her with the same smile, wearing a baseball cap that was too large for her. Both kids running through a sprinkler in their underwear. Jude in a baby walker that looked like a death trap, grinning despite a chin that was ruby red from drool rash. Donald helping Callie fly a kite as Jude trailed behind, his face contorted into an anguished cry.

There were some of Colleen and Donald, too. Colleen with three of her girlfriends, all leaning in and blowing kisses at the camera. Donald at the back of a flatbed with his buddies, beer and cigarettes in hand.

Belongings that'd been packed after April 2008, taken from the children while in foster care, were a clear indicator of the trajectory their lives had taken. Both thinned out in school photos, looking dirtier, more sallow, and with smiles that rarely reached their eyes. Report cards suggested Jude had been mute and spent a week crying at the beginning of Kindergarten, _due to lack of early socialization._ There were countless absences, some coded as sick days but others without reason. They changed schools often and immunization records showed boosters received years later than recommended. Many bags were pest-riddled.

An 8.5"x11" envelope held activity sheets for children facing loss, which the cop figured came from the early trauma work that'd been arranged by the Case Manager. Stef decided to set those aside for Lena to decide what to do with them. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the poorly-scribbled sentences. Written on one activity, in raw nine-year-old grief, was: _There was an accident. Mama got wings to fly to heaven. And Daddy had to go to jail."_

* * *

Relief flooded the cop when she opened the third box. Inside were books, most of them put away in 2011. The month wasn't specified but Stef was sure that they'd been taken when Callie had been taken into custody. Jude hadn't stayed in that placement and going into another as a single, he would've been able to take even less. Smoothing the plastic to read the spines, she stopped at the thickest one. _An Illustrated Treasury of Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales._

After having discovered moth-eaten stuffed animals, brown flecks that looked suspiciously like bedbug residue, and one insect that was very much alive and well—finding Callie's book was akin to winning the jackpot.

Not without some guilt, Stef wondered if returning the book to Callie might help repair their relationship. She'd been hopeful after the youth had talked about Colleen, but since then she had become distant—and considering how things had gone after the nightmare, Stef wasn't so sure.

She refrained from tearing open the seal to the bag, instead holding it up to the overhead lighting for inspection. Turning the item, Stef shuddered at noticing a cluster of dried mouse droppings onto the back cover of the book. Dozens of clusters of minuscule, tan-coloured eggs in webbing were on the binding, book edge, and between the double-seal of the Ziploc. Dead larvae and grey casings littered the bottom.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, letting it drop onto the table as she felt herself begin to itch all over. She put on a new pair of gloves before snapping a photo with her phone, fearing it'd be completely infested. A part of her just wanted to order a new copy off Amazon for Callie; however, she and Lena had agreed not to throw anything out.

She definitely felt conflicted, though, knowing that the eggs could stay dormant for a long time. She and Lena had had personal experience with trying to eradicate them when they first moved in together. Nearly all of Lena's clothes had been destroyed from either the larva eating them or from repeatedly doing laundry. Two exterminations, one destroyed wood-framed bed, and multiple trips to the bank for coins for the laundromat later, they were gone; however, it had been a financial nightmare. Going through that again in a house with five kids seemed impossible.

Groaning, Stef went to get scissors, a mask, CaviWipes, and the handheld vac from the supply closet. After all that Callie and Jude had lost, she couldn't throw anything that belonged to them away in good conscience. Cutting the bag open over the garbage, the cop let the plastic slip off the book before proceeding to vacuum and disinfect every surface, nook, and cranny. Then, Stef held it by the spine and gave it a quick shake for good measure. A flattened, folded paper airplane used as a bookmark fluttered into the can. Carrying the anthology back to the table, she changed her gloves again and began to flip through the pages.

Seeing the illustrations, the cop understood why it was so special to Callie. Colleen had taped herself reading every single story and the fantastical watercolour pictures brought it all to life. While Callie had insisted she was too old for these stories, Stef hoped she'd listen to them anyway. She had seen how difficult it'd been for her daughter to hear her Mom's voice; however, it held so much potential for letting grief run its course, which she hoped would bring Callie the closure she deserved but had been cheated out of.

* * *

Tightly wedged between another section of pages was a second airplane. Stef chuckled at the haphazard origami and wondered which sibling had attempted it. Freeing its wings from the body, she was about the launch it at the garbage when something about it made her hesitate at the very last moment.

Unfolding the paper, she discovered a child's drawing of people eating at a table. Each rudimentary figure was characterized by loopy limbs and digits disproportionate to their body size, and smiles were scrawled on. One stick figure dropped what she assumed was bits of food onto the floor below. Under the table were several other smaller figures, on fours. Stef smiled. Family pets, scrounging below.

Another airplane, found a few pages down, sent a chill through the cop. Two stick people drawn in the same, loopy style, stood on a lawn with grass and flowers in a garden sequestered off to the side. One person held a hose; its face with a deep, black frown and a zigzagged mouth. The smaller figure stood directly under the stream of water as it puddled around its feet. Blue tears went down its face.

Her heart plummeted. Children often drew odd depictions to make sense of their world but they rarely imagined scenes of abuse unless the idea had been seeded for them.

She and Lena had suspected physical and emotional abuse from the beginning. The signs had been undeniable. The ambivalent, insecure attachment; jumpiness and flinching if they got too close; disorganized eating and self-neglect; and an independence level that surpassed what was appropriate for their age. All were indicative of previous maltreatment. There were also hints in the children's files but wording typically erred on the side of caution, rarely divulging more than what they needed to know as state caregivers. Some placements had been cut short and replaced by emergency stays. The women hadn't pushed to find out specifics, other than the situation the siblings were in when Callie had been arrested. However, the system in place for children in care was overworked enough that they knew abuse often went undiscovered.

Closing her eyes, the cop drew in a deep breath before letting her gaze fall on the first drawing. Upon a second glance, it was clear that the _pets_ were actually children. Stef could now make out the dog's rectangular "ears" as simply brown hair on a stick figure. The smaller figure had yellow-coloured hair, which made complete sense. Often, brown-haired children were blond as infants and toddlers.

"No. _NO!_ " Stef cried out. Adrenaline fully kicking in, she grabbed the heavy book and began to shake it vigorously. The book offered its truth, without resistance, in the form of countless airplanes and fortune tellers that fell onto the table. Not yet convinced that all the origami had been dislodged, the cop slammed it down on its spine and started to flip through methodically until satisfied she'd found every last one.

"Oh…no. _No, no, no,_ " she repeated desperately. Her breath caught and tightened in her chest as she unfolded each one before throwing it aside. Her stomach lurched at a particularly explicit one: a person lying face-down on a bed, mouth agape in a downturned oval. At the end of the bed was a figure holding a large stick—a ruler, judging by the marks on the wood—in a balled up fist. _SORY_ was repeatedly written all over the page, as if making a mockery of the situation.

The drawings were always the same—made from construction paper and drawn in crayon or coloured pencil. Folding seams were more precise on some than others. Clothing, people, and settings morphed, but all were equally disturbing. Children hiding under a bed as a figure loomed by the door. Various depictions of being hit. The most eerie was a stick figure holding out its hands with fingers splayed, each finger big and red.

Fumbling in her pocket for her phone, Stef's fingers shook as she speed-dialled her colleagues in the adjacent department. She ended the call after the second ring as she walked over to the garbage, remembering the first airplane that'd fallen in. The one she'd thought had been a bookmark. Hands shaking, Stef unfurled it and smoothed it out against the sink counter.

On the faded yellow backdrop was a sink and funny-looking toilet off to one side. A stool of some sort. Toothbrushes on the counter. On the opposite side was a tub with the shower on, bright blue droplets raining down into the basin. A stick figure, a woman with reddish-coloured curly hair was in the middle of the page. Her face was angry, depicted with the familiar, exaggerated black frown and zigzagged mouth she'd seen in other drawings. In her balled up fist was a wavy-looking length of rope or strap, with a rectangle on the end. Scrawled across the top was GENNEEN.

Her heart pounding, the cop swallowed nervously as she scanned the innocently drawn picture. She closed her eyes twice, wishing in desperation that that was all it was. But it was a naive denial, for in her heart, Stef already knew—she wasn't going to like whatever she found. In her heart, she already knew what this was about. No amount of pleading with herself would make it untrue.

Then, she saw it.

Sitting small beside the bathtub was a stick person, likely a girl judging by flowers on the pants and the long brown hair. Both eyes were drawn as X's and her oval mouth was downturned, open and contorted as if mid-scream. Large tears drawn onto the face pooled onto the floor.

 _Callie._

* * *

 _"Hi, Bill, this is Stef Foster calling. It's about…quarter-to-ten right now. I'm hoping we can connect sooner than later so I can update you on something you need to know about."_ The matter was urgent but she didn't want to stress him out by leaving too much info, either. _"My cell's the best way to get a hold of me. We'll chat soon."_

Ending the call, Stef peered through the window at her two colleagues. She'd been more than relieved to step aside to let them do their job. With a possible record of child abuse in her possession, things had moved quickly once she'd called over to the Child Abuse Unit. Now each drawing was being carefully flattened and photographed before being placed into their own plastic sleeve and going into a new filing box. As per standard protocol, a case number was assigned. Unfortunately, while no additional drawings had been found, the original box was confiscated for investigation as there were other books that hadn't been checked.

The best any of them were hoping for was to try to put them in order, based on developmental age of the child upon completion of the drawing, the extent to which the paper was faded, and characteristics in the picture itself. The order could then potentially be matched with the timeline of placements the children had been in, using objective information about those families, such as pets or household size. Those caregivers could then be investigated.

Still, despite all this work, it'd be nearly impossible to recommend charges to be laid—even if somehow the children were willing to be interviewed. Drawings were not photographs, and weren't considered as reliable.

The only useful thing the discovery had told Stef was that the pictures had been drawn and hidden over several moves, which broke her heart.

* * *

Thirty minutes after having left that voicemail message, and the cop was feeling increasingly antsy each time she checked her phone. Finally unable to wait any longer for Bill to call back, she tried his emergency line.

"Stef," he immediately answered, sounding out of breath. "Everything alright?"

"Bill, sorry—I left a voicemail not too long ago but wanted to give you another try. Do you have some time?" the cop said apologetically.

"I'm in between visits so have a good window now. Did something happen at school?" he asked, genuinely concerned. The women rarely called him at his personal number—in fact, he often didn't hear from them unless something serious happened.

"Oh, no, nothing happened at school. Callie went back Monday and honestly, I think she likes being in her routine again. There haven't been any concerns since then," Stef replied. All of her daughter's recent issues at school and with breaking her probation now paled in comparison to what she'd just learned.

Stef paused, trying to figure out the best way to broach the news. "It does have something to do with Callie and Jude, though, and it's a bit time sensitive. An investigator with our department will be trying to connect with you before the end of this week," she forewarned, not wanting him to be caught off guard when her colleague assigned to the file called.

"I found some drawings when going through the boxes…" She was finding it incredibly difficult to stay removed from the situation despite trying to be as professional as possible. It'd be so much easier to do this in person but she already felt too close to the case and knew meeting face-to-face wouldn't help keep boundaries. She just wanted to be _Mom_.

"Okay…" Bill said slowly, confused as to why the police wanted to talk to him about the kids. "there needs to be a Release of Information signed but otherwise it should be fine—"

Closing her eyes, Stef held her breath before forcing herself to speak. Her mouth felt like cotton and she could barely get the words out. "It's about a possible record of abuse."

* * *

"Do you have a pen and paper? I have the file number in case you need to get a hold of the department before someone gives you a call." Stef played with the business card as Bill fumbled on the other end of the line. She had just finished explaining what she'd found out and next steps in terms of what would be needed from him to proceed with the investigation.

"SDDCA-19738," she read out once he was ready.

"Got it. Thanks for the heads up. It should be easy to pull the records of all the placements, including emergency stays, and the corresponding dates. I'll fax them by tomorrow." Bill was anxious to help in any way possible; nearly all of those placements were still active. If the Jacob kids had been mistreated in those homes, they likely wouldn't have been the only ones—and any kids there currently would be at risk, too.

"What happened in the placement with Jeanine?" Stef blurted out, still shaking from the adrenaline. She hadn't planned on asking before Bill saw the exhibit, but that had been the only drawing that had the name of the perpetrator and she couldn't let it go.

She, of course, understood the specific incident based on Jude's drawing. As well, she had some context of the woman based on what little Callie had shared about her. The truth was that she needed Bill to tell her so that she could begin to process it.

"Callie mentioned her to Dr. Wiseman," the cop explained, unwilling to go further than that. Callie and Jude deserved the utmost respect and dignity—rights that they hadn't had consistently for far too long—and she wanted to preserve that. Sensing Bill's hesitation, she wondered how much more her heart could take for she knew this would be hard to hear.

"Hold on, I'm moving into an interview room," he informed her, unwilling to have this discussion in the office he shared with three other colleagues, which guaranteed his attention would be taxed.

"Callie talked about her? What was the context?" Bill asked once the door closed behind him, wanting to know what Stef knew. He needed to be careful to preserve as much of Callie's confidentiality as possible; however, if the cop brought information forward, he was willing to share specifics. There were definitely release of information guidelines but given that his clients were all minors, it was up to his discretion.

"There was some… _encouragement_ ," Stef clarified. "She said that she and Jude would have to eat separately from the other children, who I'm guessing were biological. She described being fairly restricted with food and getting into trouble for telling, and left it at that."

"That's correct," Bill admitted sadly. He was surprised that Callie had mentioned the woman at all. The youth had insisted she was only giving her statement once and, to the best of his knowledge, she'd kept her word.

"I—I found an incredibly disturbing drawing that Jude did—a picture of Callie in the bathroom with Jeanine," Stef continued, knowing that Bill was waiting for her to reveal what she knew so he could add to it.

"It was disturbing," he confirmed. "All the more so because everything in that home had checked out; the caregivers had already been fostering for a couple years. It was the kids' first placement and I had them see someone at the children's mental health center to help them grieve. Two or three months in, the Psychologist called with concerns that Jude and Callie were being segregated from the rest of the family during meals and that food was possibly being withheld."

The cop felt her annoyance rise at this woman. _Why decide to foster if there was no intention of including children in all aspects of the family's routine? That was the entire point of fostering—to nurture relationships, inclusion, and attachment, regardless of length of stay. There was no such thing as going offline, ever, as a parent._

"I went to the house unannounced that evening to do a home check and to interview the caregivers as well as the children. Again, everything checked out—cupboards were full, produce and dairy in the fridge. Callie and Jude denied eating separately and not getting enough. Their weights were normal. Jeanine and her husband gave appropriate answers." He paused. "I had my doubts, though. There were doubles of some items—the same thing in a brand name and generic."

"That wouldn't have been enough of a rationale to move them," Stef stated quietly. It was the worst possible predicament to be in: having grounds for immediate investigation, but needing to leave children who were likely at risk because the threat wasn't immediate enough, or because the rationale wasn't strong enough to get an alternative placement. The risk would then be elevated, as potentially abusive caregivers were now tipped off that the kids in their care had likely been responsible for telling someone.

"I wasn't left with much choice other than to recommend closer monitoring, Stef. The department backed me up, even though we agreed, something wasn't adding up," the Case Worker explained.

He paused, clearing his throat before continuing. "The elementary school called three days later, two days before I was due to go back for a follow up. Callie's teacher had been helping her get changed for gym when the bruising and welts were noticed."

"E—ex _c_ use me?" Stef choked out, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. She couldn't believe that that woman had beat Callie over a home visit _she_ was responsible for bringing upon herself. "That's ludicrous, Bill, absolutely ludicrous. Thank god her teacher found out," she said, somehow knowing that Callie would've not said anything.

"I often think about that—how lucky Callie was in a way that she trusted her teacher enough to let her take a look. Otherwise we might not have found out until something worse happened." Bill chuckled bitterly. It was awful to even suggest luck in such a situation.

"I also often think about what I could've done differently during that home visit. How I could've been less explicit about my intentions, I guess, so that Callie and Jude could've been protected," he admitted. It'd been years since he'd spoke about this, and it was just as hard now as it'd been then.

Stef shook her head. She understood why Bill would feel responsible as their Case Worker, but it'd been pure retaliation and she believed no one could've anticipated that outcome. "Usually caregivers are savvy enough to know that when there's an impromptu visit, that something's been flagged."

"What happened after?" she asked, not entirely sure she could stomach the truth.

"The ER at Rady's Children's Hospital received Callie right away. By the time I arrived, she had already been triaged and police had been called."

"Of course, the stars refused to align that day. I tried to have a female colleague join me, thinking she might have better rapport with Callie, but she ended up with an emergency of her own. The constable wanted a statement from Callie right away. Then it turned out there was no female doctor available that shift. Though I'm not sure it would've helped. You know the team at Rady's—they're amazing—but Callie wouldn't have any of it. They tried giving her Ativan to calm her down and she refused. In the end, they sedated her after deciding it'd be less traumatizing so they could collect the evidence and do blood work to check for infection."

"She must've been so scared," the cop whispered. Her vision blurred as she imagined her sweet, lively, and surly girl as a frightened eight-year-old—uncertain of what was happening, alone amongst strangers, and afraid to speak. That was hard. "Evidence?" she croaked out.

"Extensive deep tissue bruising all over the back of her thighs, buttocks, and knees. It took a long time to get her cleaned up. Her underwear was dried on in some areas, from fluid draining from where the skin had broken." Bill cleared his throat, knowing he was breaking the woman's heart; however, Callie's experience deserved honesty. That was needed to foster understanding and hopefully, attachment.

"How were her labs? They were worried about infection?"

"There was a concern that Callie might not have been able to remove her underwear without reopening some areas, so they thought she could've been eliminating and showering without getting fully undressed," he explained as Stef sucked in a sharp breath. "Results were clear, thankfully. The doctor was going to discharge her but decided to hold her until we could arrange another placement. Jude stayed with me during that time."

"Callie must've been thrilled about that," Stef quipped. She fully understood that the hospital would've been the safest place for her.

Bill let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Ah—no. Actually Callie tried to fire me. When the constable was finally allowed to interview her, Callie politely informed him she would like to speak first about the _man_ representing her and her brother," he recounted.

Stef laughed bitterly as she let the tears fall. This was Callie; she still had her fighting streak.

"She did eventually come around. A nurse asked Callie if she thought we were just keeping her in hospital to be mean, and apparently she said no, that she thought it was because we cared about her. She also admitted, when I apologized to her for what had happened, that she understood why I had to do the visit…but she was much more guarded after that."

"What happened to her? The woman, I mean," Stef clarified, finding herself unable to say her name.

"She pled guilty to a charge of aggravated battery of a minor with a weapon, but maintained it was discipline that accidentally got out of hand because Callie resisted. She served thirty days and two years probation. With support from the court psychologist, Jude gave his statement through storytelling and drawings, and of course, the extent of Callie's injuries cast doubt on Jeanine's claim that they were accidental."

"Thirty _days_?" Stef murmured, incredulous. That was a slap on the wrist.

She bit her lip, wondering if she was overstepping with her questions. "What about the other placements?" she finally asked.

"I had my concerns, as I do with most placements at one time or another," Bill admitted. "Their short-stay after Jeanine's was with one of the Case Workers on our team and was probably their best one. I'd describe the remaining placements as less than ideal… Caregivers just didn't have the patience or initiative I would've expected from people who willingly foster. Callie and Jude would miss doctor's appointments, they started having issues at school, and the record keeping was spotty. I was always asking for clarification or reminding."

"One home appeared overly focused on maintaining their home as a business exchange—they followed the rules but weren't willing to go beyond that. I'm talking wakeup and lights out times, portion sizes, snacking and meals restricted to certain times of the day—a fridge lock enforced this. They weren't _wrong_ —guidelines are three healthy meals and two snacks a day, but they were clearly in it for the money. Most kids who went through that home found it cold and regimented, but unfortunately there's not much that can be done because those reasons don't constitute grounds for removal. I believe they asked for renumeration because one of the kids accidentally damaged something, maybe it was a dent in the wall. I can't recall exactly. We weren't able to do that and a few months later they terminated."

The cop could only shake her head in disbelief as she felt a lump crawl up her throat. Simply providing shelter to children who needed warmth, safety, and love was not the same as giving them a home.

Housing was only the bare minimum needed for survival—it kept children alive. _Homes,_ on the other hand, provided security so that they could eventually heal and start looking into the future. To give them space to think about what they wanted to do and the person they wanted to grow up to be. Things that got pushed to the back burner when food, shelter, and safety were uncertain.

It surprised and dismayed her that any adult could ever confuse the two.

Bill cleared his throat. It'd been awhile since he had reviewed any of these events but he wasn't one to forget details. "I removed them from another home for failure to thrive. The caregivers had already been recommended for additional training on appropriate behavioural management," he explained. "Jude was still sucking his thumb in kindergarten and they rubbed Vicks onto his hands to stop him. He had a contact reaction when it ended up in his eyes. There were other flags, too. I suspected they kept Callie home from school as punishment. She began running away, homework wasn't done, and her teacher complained she would fall asleep in class. After Callie stole from the cafeteria and begged her school counsellor to not call her foster parents, that was it."

As the children's Case Worker relayed these experiences, Stef felt her blood begin to boil. She couldn't believe what she was hearing; that anyone could conclude that these actions would be okay in any context. Suddenly, the picture of the stick figure with its enlarged, red fingers held apart made sense. As did Jude's aversion to bathing. If, as Jeanine had claimed, the beating had been unintentional—that it had actually meant to be a consequence that got out of control—Stef knew there was a good chance it probably wasn't the first time it'd happened and that Jude would've likely encountered the same treatment in the bathroom.

Most importantly, Stef understood why Callie had run away and why she had become reticent to shower again when it was something that'd already been resolved months ago. Evoking all of these memories had been entirely her fault, and her heart broke as she realized what she had done. It hadn't been her intention, but that was no excuse for pressuring her daughter to share what she had held so protectively because of the trauma associated with old fears.

Unable to keep her tears at bay any longer, the cop forced herself to breathe quietly through her mouth. There was absolutely no denying that Jude and Callie had encountered countless episodes of mistreatment across different homes. She had suspected, of course, by the way her daughter had refused to answer Dr. Wiseman's questions. However, a part of her had held onto hope that it wasn't true—that Callie was being uncooperative because she hadn't wanted to be there.

Throughout all of this, Stef wondered if another layer to her heartache was due to her self-doubt as a parent. True, she and Lena ran a tight ship together, but often she was the one steering it. She was the strict one who was quick to chastise and question, a consequence almost always ready at the tip of her tongue. And though they tried not to be obvious, it was no secret that Lena often deferred to her whenever behaviour had been particularly egregious and required tough love. Harsher sentencing, as Jesus liked to call it.

It wasn't easy and she and Lena had had their arguments about it over the years but in general, this arrangement was what worked for them as a family. The children would cry and complain about her discipline but at the end of the day they demonstrated understanding and it was okay; they would promise to do better and usually smartened up. Until they didn't, of course. And despite all their hassling, the cop also knew that the consistency offered security and happiness. They weren't fumbling in the dark, trying to figure out where the line was because those boundaries remained static.

Yes, she could be harsh—any of her kids could speak to that—but she simply saw herself as a parent doing her job and accepted it as a fact of life.

Like any parent, her confidence wavered. But she had never felt so unsure until recently.

Now, the thought of being yet another source of fear in Callie's life consumed her. Considering how careful her daughter had been around her, tiptoeing as if afraid to leave footsteps, she worried that this was a possibility.

She wondered if Lena had been right. That Callie now saw her as being another threat to watch out for.

Another Jeanine.


	31. Solace in the Strangest Place

This idea was inspired by quite a few of you so thank you for the inspiration for some much needed Callie and Stef time. New readers: welcome and hope you enjoy. Aiming to have the next chapter up within a week.

Title came from lyrics in a beloved song by _Sia_.

* * *

 **Chapter 29:** Solace in the Strangest Place

Stef was a bundle of nerves as she walked through the Administration office, trying to formulate her words. Seeing Lena's door closed, she was grateful that her wife was tied up for she was at a complete loss as to how she would explain what she'd learned that morning.

"Karen!" she called, waving at Lena's colleague who had worked there from the day they'd started dating.

"Hello, my dear. Staying safe at work, I hope?" the woman began before her words were promptly drowned out by someone's raised voice filtering into the main reception. _Lena's._

Stef was about to make a witty remark about this generation's youth when she blanched at the all-too-familiar sympathetic look the elderly woman gave her. "Good luck, Stefanie."

"Wha— what does this have to do with me?" she sputtered, feeling her blood pressure spike. _Jesus!_ Her fear that it was once again her middle son who had landed in the office was corrected almost immediately when she heard her eight-year-old. She frowned, confused as to why Jude would be in the office before accepting that none of her children could behave themselves.

Letting out a quiet groan of exasperation, the cop marched over to Lena's office and knocked before stepping inside. She did a double-take when she noticed Callie and Jude sitting across from the executive desk as she closed to the door softly behind her. Her wife stood before them—arms crossed and very clearly unimpressed with the pair.

Not even three whole days after her daughter had been allowed to return to school and she was already back in the office.

Diverting her gaze to Lena, she held her palms up in resignation at the pointed glare she received. The office was her wife's turf and she understood that she was not to get involved unless directed otherwise. No way was she going to push Lena's buttons so soon after things had started getting better between them.

Still, she felt for her kids as she observed them from the far wall, keeping her arms folded in mutual disapproval. The children, who had paled when she first entered, had turned their attention back towards Lena though neither were quite courageous enough to look at her. Jude's gaze was downcast and he wrung his hands together, feet not quite reaching the floor as he sat in a chair that was too large for him. Beside him, Callie had her head bowed, nervously clutching her left upper arm with her right hand. On the desk were several assignments covered in red ink, each stapled to a small blue slip that required a parent's signature. Stef shook her head, fully aware of what her sweet children had been up to.

Lena huffed in frustration as she levelled each of them with a steely gaze. She had welcomed a steady stream of errant students into her office all morning and hadn't expected to see Callie and Jude as part of that group.

"Jude Jacob, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry…I promise I won't do it again," he said with genuine remorse. He looked up at Lena momentarily before quailing at her raised eyebrow. "I—I'll do better," he whispered. After all, it'd been his bad grades that had gotten him and Callie into this mess in the first place.

"Jude…" Lena sighed, softening at her son's contriteness. "Mom and I would never get upset about marks as long as you're trying; that's all we want from any of you and we both know how hard you've been working. This is not about how you did on your assignments. You understand that, right? It's how you went about handling it afterwards that I am unhappy about." She felt herself getting irritated all over again even as her son only stared guilty into his hands.

"While I appreciate your apology and am glad to hear you won't be trying this again, it does not explain why you—the _both of you—_ decided to hide this. This was not just _one_ assignment—," Lena started, grabbing the papers. "—But _one, two, three, four, FIVE_ of them," she ground out. One she could handle but there were several, and that the siblings had conspired to evade them annoyed her to no end.

"Look at me when I am talking to you," she snapped. She let the pile fall back onto her desk with a slap, regretting it immediately when fear flashed across both their faces and they recoiled into their chairs.

"Is there a reason you two didn't want us to know about this work?" Lena tried again, able to keep her tone patient this time after silently counting to ten. "Well?"

Jude fiddled with his hands, knowing an explanation was expected from him but unsure of what to say. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, not so much. It had been a while since he had gotten in trouble with Lena and he had forgotten how much he didn't like it.

"I didn't want you to be m—mad," he finally hiccupped as tears slipped down his cheeks. He hadn't meant for her to get so upset. In fact, he hadn't even considered that she would find out. Instead, he had promptly forgotten about them after handing them in with Callie's signatures on the parent slips.

The Vice Principal nodded, trying to be understanding of what she was hearing. "I'm not mad," she reassured. "I'm just disappointed and a little confused, Bud," she said truthfully.

None of their kids had ever been punished for subpar grades—not directly, anyway. Most of the time she and Stef would come up with extra practice and give one-on-one help until there was improvement. That was it. So she was beyond confounded that this had suddenly become an issue.

Callie shifted uncomfortably in her chair, discouraged at the mess she'd managed to get herself into again. She had been trying—really trying—not to be a disappointment but so far it seemed like that was the only thing she was good at.

"It's all my fault. I told Jude to let me sign it…and then did it before he could say no. He didn't do anything wrong," Callie insisted. Her heart thudded in her chest, and it was making her feel lightheaded. "I thought that maybe if I signed the slips then you wouldn't be mad—cause, well…you wouldn't know…" she trailed off as Lena's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You signed the slips so we wouldn't know, that much was clear," the Vice Principal said firmly. "Callie, you've just finished your suspension. Was it not long enough?" she asked in exasperation, knowing it was unfair of her to bring it up especially when she'd been working all week to have it amended.

"It—it was," Callie stammered, tearing up at being scolded.

"Then what were you thinking? You know that no one in our home gets in trouble over their grades," Lena repeated. She did not want something like this to happen again and needed it to stick.

Her daughter shrugged miserably. "I forgot, I guess," she replied in a tone that was nearly inaudible.

"And just what exactly were you two planning after you hid this from us? Ignore the problem? Continue forging our signatures?" Lena continued to push, not knowing what she wanted to hear from the girl. As much as she knew Callie was sorry, it was hard not to let her annoyance show. Being the older sibling, she had expected her daughter to know better.

"To help Jude so he could do better on the next stuff and then get his grades up…so that maybe you wouldn't be as mad if you found out," Callie replied, her voice pitching at Lena's sternness. "We just—we weren't thinking about the same thing you were thinking, honest," she said truthfully. Realizing how much of a terrible plan it sounded like now, she began to cry.

She hated that she had made Lena upset but had to admit she deserved it. Rarely would Lena get more angry than Stef. If she did, it was because they had messed up at school, which the woman really didn't like.

Taken aback by how crestfallen the girl appeared and how forthright she was being, Lena slid off the desk and crouched between Callie and Jude. Interactions like these were so hard, especially when her children believed they weren't safe to make mistakes and she was unsure of what she could do to make the conversation any easier on them. One thing was clear, however; the last thing they needed was for her to be a Vice Principal over a mother. Reaching behind her to grab a Kleenex for Callie, she watched sadly as the girl peeled away a ply for her brother.

"Sorry we're so much trouble," Callie said in a small voice.

" _Hey_. Look at me, both of you," Lena instructed, waiting until they did as they were told. "You are _not_ too much trouble, neither of you. You have never been too much trouble, okay? You just made a mistake," she emphasized as she placed a hand on the girl's knee. She paused to let that message sink in before continuing.

"I know you were just looking out for Jude and you were going to help him get his grades up and that's admirable, Callie. It really is, sweetheart. But both of those things could've happened even if you told us the truth," she pointed out as Callie nodded in resignation. "Forging Mom's signature—or anyone's—is unacceptable. We expect honesty from you and that means not hiding things from us that you need to come to us for."

Now it was time to straighten out her son. "Even if you were able to get your marks up in time for parent-teacher conferences, we would've found out then, anyway. We still needed to know about this, Jude. You may not have told us a lie, but keeping things from us is still the same as lying," she said, keeping her tone stern but calm.

Jude nodded. That made sense.

Lena smiled encouragingly as she returned her focus back to her daughter. "Next time, I expect you to support your brother in doing the right thing." She stifled a laugh when Callie stared at her with incredulousness. Policing each other likely sounded like a foreign concept and Lena yearned for the day they would have more normalized interactions. For now, she would continue to seed ideas.

"What am I going to do with you two?" Lena sighed as she reached for her late slips and began to sign off on them. Her question was tempered in the exasperated, yet fond, way that only a parent could achieve.

She handed each a slip. "Ten minutes, enough time to go to the bathroom if you need. Say hello and apologize to Mom before you leave, please."

* * *

Stef felt her heart clench as her children approached her. It was clear that both were nervous—each convinced that they were in more trouble than they actually were. If anything, she had been more shocked than angry at the misbehaviour and concerned that her youngest was suddenly having issues at school.

However, listening to Callie's honest explanation had left her bursting with pride. So used to the girl's stubborn resistance to engage whenever she was found to have broken any of their rules, the sudden willingness to try to communicate was surprising. This time, there had been no fight before they managed to get anything out of Callie. It was as though the energy to fight and hide had dissipated—and while Stef found that worrisome, it also meant she was learning new ways to handle herself in these situations.

Neither Callie nor Jude knew that, though.

The both of them looking thoroughly chastened, they made tentative eye contact as they chorused their hellos. Having followed the first part of Lena's directions, they hung their heads and stood awkwardly, waiting to see how she would react.

Her heart ached as she took in the worried expressions of her children, their faces blotchy from recent tears. Callie bit her lower lip, sadness etched into her brow. Jude was still sniffling and his breaths came out intermittently in shuddered gasps. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, shaking his head as his sister elbowed him in the ribs, prompting him to follow through with his apology.

"I know you're disappointed…Stef, I'm…I'm really sorry I faked your signature," Callie said sincerely when Jude only waited for her lead. She gripped her left arm nervously as she worked on what to say next, feeling awful at the situation they were in.

Deciding it'd be best to take his turn, Jude piped in. "I'm sorry I lied. I won't do it again."

"Come here. Come here—you're both okay," Stef murmured quietly. She held out her arms, relieved when Jude immediately came to her for a hug.

Callie glanced up uneasily at their foster mother. Jude was curled into Stef's side, and the girl couldn't help but smirk at his attempt to ham his way out of any disapproval directed his way. She hesitated as Stef kept her other arm extended for her, feeling mixed emotions over if she should accept the offer.

On one hand was her desire to seek comfort from someone she felt safe with—someone she didn't want to disappoint so that they would want her to be a part of their family. Then there was the fear that she needed to detach herself sooner than later from this same person, who had shown her that she had the capacity to do things she didn't like. Someone who regretted having her.

Muddying all of this was the exhaustion at trying to understand why they were being so kind. She didn't get what was going on anymore. The only things she was certain of was that the cop couldn't be that angry with them if she wanted to give them hugs already, and that she would probably feel better to have a hug right about now.

"Oh, love," Stef gasped when Callie finally relented and she had both her children tight in her arms. She'd been waiting for his moment all day and never wanted to let them go. _No one can ever hurt you again,_ she wished she could tell them.

"You are both safe, my babies," she fussed, ignoring the perplexed look Lena gave her.

"This discussion is far from over, but I trust that neither of you will ever consider doing something like this again, hmm?" She kissed Jude on the head before giving Callie the same affectionate gesture, as if trying to get their forgiveness for having to be be stern that time. Desperate to convey that they were loved regardless of whatever mischief they managed to get into.

"I…I didn't think it was the same as telling a lie but I guess, maybe I lied about being you," Callie mumbled sadly as she let herself relax and rested her head against Stef's chest, feeling safe at last from being scolded. After pushing Lena's buttons, she had to admit that she'd been anxious to be loved up again. "Sorry, Stef."

"Shh. We'll talk about this when we get home. All Mama and I need you two to know is that you are forgiven. Everything is going to be fine—this is nothing that can't be fixed, you hear me?" Stef soothed, resting her chin on the girl's head to hide her own tears. Now that she was aware of what previous caregivers had been like, she wanted to be clear—there was nothing to be afraid of.

"It was a good effort at looking out for your brother. It was just not in the way we expected, that's all, honey. Only thirteen and already into identity theft…Mama and I have far bigger dreams for you than that, my girl—much bigger, I promise you," she playfully reproached. She ducked her head to catch Callie's gaze, laughing at the sheepish, yet mischievous smirk on her daughter's face.

Her worries had only magnified at seeing the bluish hue to her daughter's lips. Sweat beads littered her hairline and the bridge of her nose, and the woman wondered if Callie was frightened or if there was a possibility she was getting ill from the stress.

"Off you go now," Stef instructed as she realized it wouldn't be long before she lost it completely. She gave a firm squeeze to the napes of their necks, causing her rascals to squeal in laughter at being tickled before they ran off.

Perhaps there was hope, after all.

* * *

"So how did Jude's teacher figure out it was Callie who signed the slips?" the cop asked. She scrutinized the attempt at copying her signature, unsure of whether to laugh or be offended. If she didn't have a complex about her poor penmanship before, she surely did now.

"She didn't. She thought he had done it himself," Lena said, rooting around in the cabinet for her ibuprofen. "But Callie was already here when I took the call and the look on her face gave it away."

"Callie was in your office? What for?" Stef asked, worried all over again.

"Calm down," Lena said, laughing. Her wife was too much sometimes. "We spent morning break together. She's pretty much glued to us unless she's in class, remember?"

"Right," Stef said apologetically, still feeling somewhat on high alert.

"I have to say, I was impressed with her for how quickly she admitted to it," Lena pointed out. Callie hadn't tried to lie her way out of it at all, not like she normally did when she was trying to avoid getting into trouble with them. That was significant progress, in her opinion.

Stef nodded slowly in agreement. "Wow. That _is_ great. Considering where we were just a week ago." Nodding towards the signed tests, she added, "I guess this was actually somewhat of a success, too. She basically told us right away what her reasoning had been, Lena. She's learning."

Her relief was overwhelming. For the first time, Callie had moved beyond simply being remorseful for something she had done—she had answered their questions with enough of an explanation so they were able to understand why she had acted the way she did.

"I mean, Jude also essentially said that he didn't want us to find out because he didn't want us to be mad at him…so I'm not entirely sure that I believe Callie when she says this idea was her's alone," Lena said skeptically.

"No, Jude is not completely off the hook, not in the least. But I'm also inclined to think Callie's telling the truth," Stef said, thinking back to the conversation she had overheard between them.

 _You love Lena and want her to love you back, right? So you gotta keep being good and try not to bug her so much, otherwise she might not. She loves you so much 'cause you're easy, Jujee._

The cop bit her lip, not wanting to hurt Lena's feelings."I heard her telling Jude that you might not love him as much as you do now, if he wasn't careful with how much he bothered you," she said as her voice cracked.

"Where would Callie even get an idea like that?" Lena was baffled by their daughter's reasoning—and at the thought that any of her children could ever think they were undeserving of their love. "When was this?"

"Over the weekend. Callie was helping Jude with math while they were both supposed to be doing homework at the table. He was pretty discouraged…you know how he gets…even though Callie's explanation wasn't that off. Anyway, Jude was wondering why he couldn't just ask you," Stef explained.

Lena could only shake her head. She had suspected this had happened a few days ago and while a part of her was slightly irritated with her wife for not having told her right away, she hadn't been the best partner lately.

I—I honestly can't even be upset with her right now," Stef admitted sadly. "I really do believe that Callie was just trying to look out for him. She said so as much."

Their daughter was afraid enough to make a mistake—any mistake—that she was willing to go to lengths to hide it from them, even if that meant breaking rules in the process. It wasn't so much a worry about being punished as it was that they wouldn't love her. Things had been left precarious enough with Bill's visit that Callie must have started to worry she was easier to get rid of than to deal with—no matter how much they reassured that wasn't in the cards. That was why Callie had been encouraging Jude not to get in their way.

"You know that we'll still have to address the lying," Lena said, though it was not without guilt. Granted, she should've been happy. Compared to everything they had dealt with last week, forging a parent's signature was minuscule. Her annoyance had abated somewhat now that she understood Callie's perspective, but she also felt that the both of them knew better than to hide the work like that.

It took everything in Stef not to groan. Consequences needed to happen—her children could be sure of that. They wouldn't be happy about it, but at this point they almost needed it—to give them the opportunity to understand they'd receive appropriate repercussions and most importantly, that it'd be alright.

That wasn't the problem. The problem was that she didn't have the energy to get into any of this. On top of the conversation that needed to happen with Lena, the cop was not looking forward to having to reprimand Callie and Jude when she got home, either.

"Why don't we talk to Jude tonight and I'll talk to Callie sometime before group tomorrow?" Stef suggested, remembering that she would need to pick her up from school by noon for her group.

Lena raised an eyebrow at her wife's uncharacteristic calmness. Usually, she would have to encourage Stef to tone it down to save their children's skin.

This time, there hadn't been a single threat of punishment. Something was obviously on the cop's mind and she had a foreboding sense that whatever it was, wasn't something Stef looked forward to sharing.

"Honey…what's going on?" she said, afraid to ask.


	32. A Change of Heart

Almost didn't get to make this update in time (felled by a summer flu last week and lost some writing nights). This development has been in the works for awhile but honestly I had such a hard time with it. Turns out there's a reason I tend to avoid writing the dynamic between Stef and Lena—it's hard! Hope I got it right. As always, thank you for the love and support. ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 30:** A Change of Heart

"I can't believe I did that to her, Lena. After everything those kids have been through…" Stef said, finally breaking the silence. "I ended up failing Callie so many times last week."

She cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. "I cornered her into talking about Jeanine during the assessment instead of respecting that maybe she wasn't ready. Instead of reassuring her that that not sharing was okay, and that I'd stand up for her. But all I could think of was that she wasn't cooperating," she admitted as her voice cracked.

"I didn't protect her like I was supposed to, Lena! _God,_ I was so _stupid_!"

"Oh, honey… _No_ ," Lena shook her head sympathetically. She had remembered when Stef had phoned from the road to let her know Callie had run away and listening to all of her insecurities then. It wasn't until now, however, that she truly appreciated the extent of self-blame Stef had been wrestling with. Because of her own resentment towards the cop for what had transpired, she had essentially isolated her—forcing Stef to carry that burden on her own.

 _None of that was your fault,_ Lena stopped herself from saying. She knew from experience how counterproductive it would be to argue with Stef when she was like this.

Needing something to calm her nerves and to busy herself, she left her desk to start the kettle for tea. Her wife was engaged in her own form of distraction, staring out the window at nothing in particular, a blank expression on her face.

Nothing that the cop had explained had surprised her; it simply confirmed what she had suspected all along. That didn't make any of it easier to understand, though.

In fact, her body knew what was wrong right away. It was her mind that trailed behind, suddenly inept at processing what she was hearing. Her heart pounded away at her ribs and echoed in her ears, making Stef's words sound faraway. She had heard, but was struggling to wrap her head around how anyone could mistreat a child in that way.

The woman's frustration tolerance caved as she retrieved the tea bags and placed them into the mugs. Distracted by the tacky sensation in her mouth and her vibrating hands, the task was suddenly much more difficult than it should've been. Emotionally frozen, her body was revolting.

It struck Lena that this was how it felt to harbour the knowledge your children had been hurt intentionally—and the details of how it had taken place.

 _This was what it meant to have your heart shattered._

Her numbness was an advantage right now. Because as much as she wanted to curl in bed and cry, she couldn't. Not now. Stef needed her to be there—as she should've been from the start.

"Callie was probably terrified and that's why she ran off the way she did. I bet she was scared to death about how we might react, and that's why she was pushing my buttons," Stef said slowly as she put two-and-two together.

It was what Callie did best whenever she felt threatened. Testing limits. Fighting. Lashing out before anyone could get to her first. "And then instead of trying to figure out what was wrong, I decided to punish her," she continued, finally feeling as though she was able to vent without the fear of repercussion.

"Honey, you didn't know," Lena consoled. "You didn't know, and Callie didn't know how to bring any of this up."

Now it was the cop's turn to shake her head in disappointment. The pieces were slowly clicking into place, leaving her with a truth that threatened to crush her. The pieces were slowly clicking into place, leaving her with a truth that threatened to crush her. "I should've tried harder to be patient and to find out what was going on. I owed her that much. There was so much more to her behaviour that day and I was so focused on reacting to it instead of learning what was behind it. Callie really needed us and I let her down," she said, admitting her deepest regret that day.

"I think you were doing the best you could, under conditions that were not very forgiving," Lena pointed out. She couldn't help but wonder how differently things might have turned out had they not been facing the stress of waiting to see if Callie would be picked up before they could locate her. Or having to return the cruiser on time before declaring what it'd been used for. Their patience barometer would've likely been higher in helping them deal more calmly with the series of unfortunate events that ensued once Callie had come home.

"I—I punished her over something she didn't have control over. Over something I set off for her," Stef maintained. "That's not something I can just take back," she said quietly.

"You were only trying to do what was right by Callie," Lena replied, being careful with how she chose her words. She understood just how painful this was for her wife—and how hard she would be taking this had their roles being reversed.

True, their daughter's ability to cope had been easily overwhelmed that day, and she felt even more terrible with the information they had now. However, it was hard to argue that Callie hadn't known what she was doing. Intent and background provided a context but ultimately, people were still responsible for their actions. As parents, that was a lesson they were obligated to teach.

"I agree, the circumstances were unfortunate and out of her control…but it didn't help that baby girl decided to make some poor choices on top of everything. She's still responsible for those. We have always maintained with Callie that we would never be upset over how she felt. That it's what she does with them that matters," Lena reminded.

"None of that should be news to Callie. She knows that you weren't giving her consequences simply because she was distressed."

"It doesn't matter," Stef said in discouragement, clearly unwilling to accept what she was hearing. In her opinion, Lena was deflecting from the main issue at hand. That she had acted in a way that had frightened her daughter, even if for a fleeting moment.

"You weren't there—you didn't see how Callie looked at me. She was scared…so scared when it happened," the cop managed to utter before clamping a hand over her mouth to keep herself from sobbing.

"She fought me and I told her that it wasn't her choice," she whispered once she had regained her composure.

It was the alarm in her daughter's eyes when she recognized how she would be disciplined and threw her hand back in a seasoned, defensive move that tore Stef apart. Because by then, it'd been too late for the girl. Increasingly frustrated by Callie's attempts to avoid her hand, she had been even more determined to follow through. And instead of reconsidering, she had anticipated her every move to deliver a message that had left her own palm stinging—and the both of them in tears.

As an adult, she could process all of that. It was Callie's capacity to do so that she doubted.

* * *

"This is all my fault," Stef said tearfully. "Callie's so afraid of doing something wrong or Jude making a mistake because of the consequences that she's convinced the safer option is to hide it from us. Regardless of what it entails. That's basically what she told you." She nodded towards Jude's homework. "That's why this happened."

Deep down, Stef had always suspected that something like this could happen, even though it felt like she and Lena had explained until they went hoarse. But as the stakes to all the misbehaviour climbed, she had also felt cornered—as if there'd be no way to make things better without repercussions Callie found adverse enough to dissuade her.

And she had found one. In fact, she was fairly certain that her daughter wouldn't be repeating those mistakes for a long time. What she hadn't expected was for Callie to become anxious over getting into trouble.

"I wanted to give her a scare but never did I want to make my child be afraid of me. Not once," Stef admitted, struggling to come to terms with a sobering thought. That Callie wasn't just afraid to make a mistake because she was worried of being punished but because she had become wary of them—either fearing them or worse, convinced she had risked losing their love and affection.

The cop brushed away her tears without much success. "She thinks we won't love her, Lena…that's what she was taught and—"

"—And you did not reinforce that. Never. So don't you _dare_ blame yourself like that," Lena said firmly, knowing her wife well enough to know what was on the verge of her tongue.

She wished that Stef hadn't felt the need to be so harsh with Callie that day, especially having the full history now. Their daughter had looked to her in the aftermath, completely lost, confused, and bereft. In her mind, no behaviour could ever justify evoking those feelings in any child. Doing so carried the risk of overshadowing whatever lesson they were trying to get across. Still, she never once doubted Stef's actions for anything but being out of love and concern for Callie.

But as much as she disagreed, Lena had to admit that they'd handled it in the best possible way. There had been several conversations afterwards to ensure Callie understood why she had been given the consequences she had. They had gone over what could've been done differently so better choices were identified for next time and to help Callie learn from the experience, beyond just what she shouldn't do. She and Stef had stayed with her to provide comfort and told her that she was loved. And while Callie didn't know it, having her stick close to them while grounded was allowing them ample opportunity to show her all of that. Slowly, it appeared that this approach was working.

"Listen, Callie may be worried and scared, but it's only natural that she would be as she tries to make sense what happened," Lena explained. "You have to remember that she's trying to figure you out, too. It's important that we give her a lot of support and patience right now," she urged, ultimately believing it was a positive sign that the experience had phased their daughter. It showed that Callie was questioning her situation and what it meant for her, rather than merely being resigned to it.

"I don't think she is ever going to forgive me for this," Stef said, choking on her tears. "What if she hates me? She will barely come near me anymore and I can't blame her for that. It was horrible…just horrible, Lena."

Wanting to comfort her wife, she approached the window where Stef had remained the entire time. The cop appeared lost in thought, turning to face her only after she placed a hand on her shoulder. "That is not true. This is Callie we're talking about. She cannot hold a grudge against anyone, let alone hate them," she countered. She placed her palms onto the sides of Stef's face in a gesture urging her to listen.

"It's not hard to see that Bug absolutely admires you. She brightens whenever she gets a chance to be close to you, or when you're praising her efforts at forging your signature to conspire against me," Lena teased.

"Is she upset? Yes. Scared…confused, yes. Her pride is probably hurt, and I bet she's worried that she's disappointed you. But Callie loves you and I know, deep down, still trusts that you're safe. She wouldn't have scurried over to you to hide and get reassurance after getting scolded by her Mama otherwise," Lena pointed out, rolling her eyes in mild annoyance as Stef gave a tearful laugh. "She doesn't hate you, honey. I promise you that."

They'd been living in a pressure cooker for several weeks and not only did Stef look emotionally exhausted, but close to her breaking point. Seeing her wife so crushed was hard; in their relationship, Stef was always the strong one who never thought twice about going into situations head on. While she wasn't always able to keep her cool, she consistently dealt with crises and got things done in an efficient manner.

When the kids were younger, it was Stef who would wrangle all three of them into the car and go off on errands to give her some quiet time. The truth was that Lena tended to shy away from going into public with three preschoolers by herself due to lack of confidence and fear of looking like she couldn't handle them. During dreaded immunizations, her wife was the one who held each of them in place because she couldn't bear the feeling of being complicit in their discomfort. And whenever there was a spider in the house, it was Stef who everyone—including her—called for.

"You have to remember, too, that a lot of Callie's reactions are going to be conditioned. She's going to react based on instinct first before thinking about it—that is what has worked for her before. So I think there's a very good possibility that she knows we're safe even though she's also afraid of us," Lena said, thinking out loud.

"Like what happened just now. Callie started out being more than a little uncertain about what you might have to say but she ended up relaxing," Lena pointed out. The relief on the girl's face had been unmistakeable.

Now that she thought of it, she figured Jude probably had something similar going on. It was the only thing that made sense when she recalled how both children had shrank from the talking-to they had received before scurrying to Stef for protection.

"She approached you over the weekend. She was thrilled that she was finished getting organized for the week because you'd sat down to help her…and I seem to remember that grin on her face when she managed to get in a good dig at you for being old enough to own a tape player," she continued as Stef chuckled sadly.

"Plus, she opened up to you about Colleen in the garage, all by her own volition. That wasn't just a little thing—you were both gone for quite some time," Lena added, feeling somewhat envious.

Not sure if she quite believed Lena, the cop looked away. They had kept a close eye on Callie all week, worried about how withdrawn she had become as the week progressed. Slowly but surely, she had preferred to keep to herself, spending more time apart even from Jude. It could've been due to a number of stressors: the family meeting, the grief of remembering Colleen, or the readjustment to school. In any case, Callie appeared lost in thought as she went through her day, diligently doing her chores, homework, and following directions without complaint. Her guitar, which she had earned back, remained untouched in the living room. She and Lena also knew their daughter hadn't been sleeping well. They could barely get her up for school and because of it, her new routine of having breakfast in the morning had suffered.

 _Wasn't that what she had wanted? To have Callie listen and to try and behave herself?_

Because on that front, she and Lena welcomed the reprieve from having to manage any rule-breaking or obstinacy. However, it hadn't been without a cost. Callie had returned to the overly compliant, removed child who had first come into their home, before she had wormed her way into their hearts. Seeing her rebuild her walls to keep them at arm's length after catching glimpses of her lighthearted side was hard.

So focused on keeping the girl out of the system, it felt like she had managed to lose a part of her anyway.

* * *

"You're not them. You know that right?" Lena asked, finally validating what her wife didn't have the courage to acknowledge.

She'd been with Stef long enough to appreciate that wrapped up in her worries about Callie was an insecurity about how she viewed herself. Second guessing if she, too, belonged to the same group of people who had victimized their children.

"I—I'm not so sure about that," Stef said as her voice cracked slightly and eyes began to well up again. Rational or not, Callie was scared of her—and as a parent, that was a tough pill to swallow. There was a sense of relief at finally having the elephant in the room identified, something she hadn't been able to do herself.

She swallowed, suddenly wondering what their daughter thought of her. "Does it really matter…if Callie doesn't think that that?"

Grappling with her own sense of guilt at Stef's discouragement, Lena gave her an apologetic look. That had been her fault. For days, she had been relentless in reminding Stef that what she had done was an egregious error in judgment. That Callie wouldn't know the difference between being abused and disciplined, and that because of it, _she_ had been just as awful and out of line as _them._

Concerned and angry, Lena had taken every sign that Callie had reacted poorly and thrown it back in her wife's face. It had shattered Stef's confidence, which had already been compromised after weeks of struggles with Callie. Lena was ashamed to admit that that was what she had wanted. Trying to cope with her own lack of confidence and feelings of failure, a part of her had rationalized that it was only fair for Stef to feel that way, too. Even her focus on filing a formal incident report had been her way of making a statement that the cop had been wrong. She had only let go of that after being reminded that they had been cutting corners to Callie's favour all along.

In hindsight, it was ridiculous…but that was what had been going on. For both of them to move forward, Lena needed to own that truth.

As for the real reason why she and Stef had held onto their disagreement as long as they had? Lena suspected that it was because neither of them knew what the right thing to do would've been. Stef had acted out of a loss as to what to do. And while she disagreed with the method of discipline, Lena had to admit that she had no idea how she would've reacted had she been the one to discover Callie that day. So they argued, each desperate for validation that their view was more correct than the other's.

Following several days of reflection and keeping a healthy distance from her wife, Lena now accepted that neither of them would get the answer they were looking desperately for. And she was okay with that. She was alright not ever knowing because as parents, you couldn't. So much time and energy could be spent second-guessing, trying to link your children's words and actions and feelings to what had and hadn't been done, that at some point it became counterproductive. All the fighting she and Stef had done had offered little guidance about how to move forward. It hadn't helped them be more present for Callie, who needed their help and support right now.

Lena didn't say anything as she filled the mugs with boiling water. She was grateful when Stef took a seat across from her soon after she set the mugs on her desk, relieved she wouldn't need convincing. Scooting up to the edge of her chair, Lena placed her elbows on the oak, keeping her palms up and open. She gave a painful smile as Stef met her gaze and slowly mirrored her actions, allowing her to gather her wife's hands in her own. They sat like this for awhile, not speaking—each focused on being present for the other.

"Stef. You're not," Lena tried again, this time firmer in her resolve. "What happened…it wasn't the same. You know that, and I think Callie knows it, too. And if she doesn't at this moment, she has the capacity to—with patience and time," she added.

Despite seeing the cop open her mouth to argue, Lena continued. "I know I said before that Callie didn't know the difference, but I was so angry with you. I'd been rationalizing my anger as being on behalf of Callie…like I was giving up on her if I wasn't angry at you. But I think a big part of me just felt betrayed. We never considered any physical means of discipline after trying with Jesus," Lena conceded, feeling her guilt fade away now that she had started being honest.

"It wasn't fair of me to criticize you like that—to make you feel like you were out to victimize Callie like other caregivers did. That wasn't right."

Lena's thoughts on the matter had evolved over the last week, hardening her stance in some ways while softening it in others—all in ways that were unexpected. She was not happy about spanking being used in their home, nor was she convinced it was the answer for Callie. However, it had also not been without reason. While she didn't agree with those reasons, she didn't have to to understand Stef's rationale and that it'd been with Callie's best interests at heart.

It hadn't been an attempt to assert power or to shame her, like punishing a child for prolonged thumb sucking or over being inconvenienced by an accident. Nor had it been a way for Stef to take out her frustration with their daughter—to make her pay—by any stretch of imagination.

Instead, the goal all along was to keep Callie as far away as possible from the chaos and flux of being institutionalized. To create and preserve a sense of normalcy for their daughter, her potential, and wellbeing. They both agreed on the end game. The conflict hinged on a difference of opinion on how they imagined getting Callie there.

Lena cleared her throat, on the verge of tears herself. It was the most honest she had been all week with Stef. Admitting that she hadn't been there for her when she should've been was hard and left her feeling vulnerable.

"I still can't say I would've supported you, but I definitely could've done more to be more supportive than I was," Lena said with sadness in her voice. "Because after all this time I still can't say for certain that I would've known what to do with Callie, or how I would've actually reacted," she whispered, ashamed at her waffling conviction.

"I can't believe she opened my safe, Lena. She had access to my gun and both magazines…the taser. All of it," Stef said, her voice hollow from congestion. She forced herself to take several breaths to keep her composure intact as the panic rose in her throat. The visceral reaction was the same, as if she were back in the exact moment she understood what her daughter had done.

To this day, she wasn't sure that Callie grasped how much she had put herself at risk that day, both in terms of immediate danger and long-term consequences.

"That must have been so scary and I cannot imagine what must've been going through your head when that happened," Lena replied, her heart breaking as Stef broke down into heavy sobs. The experience had been tough on both Stef and Callie.

"I'm so sorry I made you ever feel like you failed her. I'm so sorry about that," Lena said, finally uttering the apology she'd been holding in for awhile. "You were only doing the best thing you could think of at that point. I truly believe you did, honey. You are so committed to these kids; your love for Callie and Jude are obvious and they just soak it up. I never doubted you for that and I'm sorry for ever implying otherwise because I was angry with you."

"Callie must be so confused. What if she doesn't come back to me?" Stef asked timidly as she admitted her worst fears out loud. She wanted to believe Lena, she really did. It was just hard to.

"That's not going to happen," Lena asserted. Based on what she had seen, she firmly believed that the girl was warming up to Stef again, but understood the cop's anxiety. "But for now, we keep being patient and reassure her, to show that she is safe and loved. We don't give up."

"And when you think she's ready, you talk to her."


	33. Nurturing New Shoots

**Author Note**

Hi everyone, sorry for the delay. I needed to write ahead a few chapters to see where all the pieces would fit and now here we are almost a month later (yikes). In good news, the next three chapters have now been drafted and I'm hopeful that will allow me to get back on track with posting and my responses. Looking forward to giving Callie and Stef some much-needed time together, too.

Many thanks to **theypreferthetermpeople** for helping me iron out some of the details that had me stuck, and to the guest who suggested reconsidering Callie's suspension. That planted an idea I couldn't let go of...

* * *

 **Chapter 31:** Nurturing New Shoots

 _New shoots: the new growth from seed germination that grows upward where leaves will develop._

* * *

Callie made her way to the office once the lunch bell rang, realizing that she didn't mind spending breaks with Lena as much as she'd thought she would. Every day this week, they'd eaten at the desk across from each other while she answered questions about her morning. Afterwards, she'd listen to music on Lena's iPhone, watching the woman get organized for the afternoon, until the next bell. The routine was predictable enough that a part of her even looked forward to it.

Hearing Stef's voice as she walked past the main doors, Callie stopped in her tracks.

 _Crap. It was Thursday._

Every second Thursday, Stef picked her up for lunch together before driving her to group. The cop would remain in the waiting room for the session, finishing reports and running background searches on her ToughBook. On the way home, she'd always try to nap to avoid any awkward conversations. While that routine was also predictable, it was much less simple; and consequently, group was her least favourite thing to do.

* * *

Callie had no idea, but Stef had arrived at school an hour ago with news that the Parole Officer had approved the switch from court-mandated group to private sessions. The conditions of release still needed updating but according to Bill, the transfer paperwork had been faxed and Callie's attendance was no longer expected. Knowing how much their daughter hated attending, they couldn't wait to tell her together.

That wasn't the only piece of good news. Lena had been advocating all week to convince the administration to amend Callie's suspension. Even though it'd been for using illicit and controlled substances on campus, the evidence had been circumstantial—no one had actually seen her drinking or smoking pot. They were also satisfied that Callie had been on a modified class schedule during those three days and hadn't returned to school behind. Finally, the Principal agreed to write an official statement, which Stef and Lena hoped would soften the repercussions stemming from the recent misbehaviour.

It was a loophole, given that Callie had admitted to what she'd done at home. For this reason, it was decided that this information would be withheld to avoid giving the impression she had been let off the hook. Callie had another chance but she didn't have to know that right now.

Despite not having group, the women were debating whether to have Stef take Callie for the afternoon anyway. They felt strongly that school shouldn't be missed unless absolutely necessary; however, they also sensed that their daughter desperately needed a break and hoped that letting her skip half the day would help her relax.

With the exception of the forged signatures, the entire week had gone by without incident. Callie didn't once challenge them about her lack of privileges and followed directions without giving attitude. Suddenly, every second interaction wasn't a fight. It left more opportunities for positive reinforcement which they knew Callie liked—only now it seemed like she was responding to it. The change had been unmistakeable and it felt like the groundwork had finally been laid for progress to happen. After weeks of struggling to manage the escalating behaviour, they were grateful for a reprieve—though not without tremendous guilt over what it'd taken to get there.

No longer comfortable to rock the boat, she had been on her best behaviour. And while it was a promising first step, a lot more work would be needed to help Callie beyond simply going through the motions of following the rules.

Worse, she had started to avoid them. The women noticed that Callie would stand behind the other children, and on several occasions, would duck into an adjacent room to keep from running into them. When they did manage to corner her, she would be polite and give answers that were, for the most part, sincere and open. However, the interactions always felt forced. Like she used to do when she and Jude first moved in, Callie made herself scarce after dinner and chores, going to bed before they could check on her and tuck her in for the night. The rare attempts to initiate anything, even if to ask for coffee or to question their points, had also disappeared.

At first, Stef had made peace with the idea that Callie wasn't fond of her anymore; however, it had quickly become apparent that Lena was right in that it wasn't a grudge. Still, something had fundamentally changed between them. While things appeared smooth on the surface, the last thing the cop expected was to feel as though she was losing her daughter before her very eyes.

* * *

"I don't have group anymore?" Callie asked, not quite sure she'd heard her foster mothers right.

Stef's vision blurred as she looked at her daughter with pride. Even in the context of her probation, this was a milestone. "Not anymore, kiddo," she confirmed as the girl beamed at her.

"Seriously?" Callie blurted, unable to contain her excitement. Bill had said this was a possibility but that she should expect to attend both for awhile because it'd take some time to sort out. "What about the other thing?" she questioned tentatively as her expression became serious once again.

Lena suppressed a smile; she was thrilled at the girl's courage to ask. "Dr. Wiseman? Yes, honey, I'm afraid that was part of the deal," she reminded gently, knowing Callie was hoping they'd forgotten about it.

"I'm sorry, Cal," the cop sympathized, seeing her daughter's face fall. "But that appointment isn't for a few days and we'll be there with you this time. Jude, too," she added, happy to see her brighten somewhat.

Knowing how hard the adjustment would be and wanting to avoid a repeat of last week, she and Lena had decided on family work before they would even attempt having both kids in individual sessions.

And it was _both_ because, after learning about Jude's drawings, they felt he needed to attend, too.

"So, Mama and I were discussing—and you can let us know what you think, Callie, because we're leaving it up to you…but since I already have lunch packed, I was hoping we could go do our picnic and then you could come with me for the afternoon."

Callie's gaze flitted to Lena, trying to figure out what her stance on this was. She liked the thought of being done for the day but was daunted by the idea of having to spend time alone with the cop.

"What do you say, sweets? Can I get some help with my errands?" Their daughter had turned away from her almost immediately at the proposal, but not before Stef had caught glimpse of a smile creeping across her face—giving away her true feelings.

"It's fine…I—I can come back after lunch. I don't have to miss school," Callie politely declined. Nervous, she bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt the cop's feelings, especially not after all she'd done to help her—but right now, sitting in class was easier. She wouldn't have to constantly worry about making a mistake and disappointing her any more than she already had, which was exhausting.

Lena exchanged a concerned look with her wife. It was unlike Callie to not jump at the opportunity to miss school. Her spotty attendance record was enough to tell them it wasn't her favourite activity.

"Are you sure, honey? Your teachers aren't expecting you. I'll make sure to pick up your assignments before I come home like I always do if that's what you're worried about. Why don't you two go have your picnic and then you can decide?" She was relieved when Callie relented, albeit after some hesitation.

She didn't want to be overly pushy about it. Ultimately, it was Callie's choice and it wasn't their intention to make her uncomfortable. But Stef and Callie needed some time together—if anything, for Stef to realize that their daughter didn't dislike her, and to give Callie an opportunity for normalcy. In light of what they had recently learned, there was also a part of her that wanted to coddle their daughter a little more. To keep her even closer.

* * *

Callie's stomach grumbled loudly as the food was laid out on the blanket. Stef had prepared ham sandwiches, soup, pasta salad, cubes of juicy watermelon, and tortilla chips with guacamole and salsa. As always, it was an insane amount but between the both of them they usually managed to get through everything.

Food was a big deal in this family and Callie loved the security that came along with knowing there would be three square meals a day. They ate together whenever possible and if Stef and Lena had people over, they would usually be invited for lunch or dinner. Lena was very healthy and called the shots on what they could and couldn't have, but those rules applied to everyone and they ate the same. It was actually a house rule that you had to eat what was put in front of you—there were no separate meals.

"Well Bug, I'm glad I finally got my act together for a picnic," Stef commented as she handed over a sandwich. Too exhausted to be motivated last month, they had had takeout in the car twice. She still felt guilty about that.

"Yeah." Starving, Callie unwrapped the wax paper right away and took a bite.

It was nice during this time of day. Except for a couple stay-at-home mothers with their toddlers in the playground and elderly people doing group exercises, the park was quiet. Meaning they got their pick of a shady spot under a large willow that overlooked the duck pond.

"Tomato or chicken noodle?"

"Can I have chicken noodle?" Callie answered mid-chew, having trouble talking with her mouth full. Her head had been throbbing for hours and she didn't think she could stomach a creamy soup.

"Hey hey hey—slow down," Stef reminded. "Lunch isn't going anywhere." Despite her teasing, she was over the moon to see the girl's ravenous appetite. Due to what she suspected was interrupted sleep, Callie had been difficult to wake in the morning, leaving barely enough time to put something in her hand on the way out the door. This morning had been a hardboiled egg and a granola bar—not nearly enough to hold her until lunch.

She poured the soup directly into the lid of the insulated container and carefully passed it to Callie. "Careful, this is hot."

As the cop served up her lunch, she stressed about how she'd make conversation. Callie hadn't been given much space lately but she was anxious to get a sense of how she was doing. The thought of having barely seen or spoken to her daughter all week depressed her.

"My hungry girl…" She placed a spoon in front of Callie, who was now putting in a great deal of effort at blowing at the soup to cool it down. She was more than happy to fuss over her daughter. They both needed it.

"Grandma's soup is pretty good, hey?" she asked once Callie took a sip, desperate for some sort of engagement.

The girl nodded. This was serious, homemade stuff—not something from a packet. Satisfied at the temperature, she began to drink directly from the lid, forgoing the spoon set aside for her.

"You know, the stock alone takes an entire afternoon. I'm sure she would love to have a hand in the kitchen sometime if you'd be up for it. I was never much of a help to her—she was always cleaning up after me."

Time with extended family—and the normalized interactions that went along with it—was something she and Lena had talked about wanting for Callie and Jude eventually. From what little they knew, neither Colleen and Donald had family around, and they wanted the children to have a concept of what those relationships could look like.

Her daughter have a reflexive shrug before looking up in surprise once the words sank in. "That'd be nice," she said, smiling shyly.

"I'm sure she'd be very happy to hear that."

Suddenly, Callie's eyes went wide. "Would I be alone with her?" she blurted, the uncertainty and nerves apparent in her voice. She liked Sharon and this idea of spending time with her but also didn't know her very well.

Stef rested her sandwich in her lap. "It'd be whatever you're comfortable with, Cal. There aren't any rules around this, honey—it's supposed to be fun. You could help her in the kitchen when we visit next time," she reassured, trying to ease her daughter's concern.

Relieved, Callie nodded. "Okay…maybe you can stay in the yard?" she suggested, only realizing she'd said that out loud when she saw the woman's exaggerated look of hurt.

"Wha—the _yard_? Like the family pet?" Stef raised an eyebrow as the girl flashed her a sheepish grin. "Is this the start of it? Pretty soon you'll be telling me to drop you off five blocks away from Anchor Beach so you won't have to be seen with me?" she demanded. "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"No…" Callie replied seriously, trying to hide her smirk. "Maybe just a block and a half away."

* * *

They ate in silence while Stef went back and forth on how to continue the conversation. Having lectured their youngest at length the night before, she and Lena had already nailed down their points. But she also knew that she was in that tricky in-between stage where she needed to build rapport with Callie and didn't want to do anything to get in the way of that.

"Alright Bug, we're officially on class time," she said as she casually glanced at her phone. _13:00._

"Guess that means you're stuck with me. That alright with you?" She laughed when Callie nodded with enthusiasm. If she needed to bribe to get that level of engagement, she would happily do so right now.

"Since we're letting you skip, I think it's only fair we talk a little bit about school," Stef proposed. "What do you think?"

Understanding what this conversation might be about, Callie nodded obediently. "Okay."

"You know how Mama's been responsible for organizing parent-teacher conferences? Well, she tells me that according to your interim report, you've been doing extremely well in all your classes. We're so proud of you, Cal. It's not easy to stay on top of everything like you have while adjusting to a new school. You've been working so hard and we definitely have not acknowledged that as much as we should have," she praised.

"Okay…thanks," Callie replied shyly, feeling her cheeks burn. This wasn't something she was used to hearing and she wasn't sure what to say. She felt somewhat foolish but admittedly, she liked it when Stef and Lena praised her for meeting their expectations—even if it was over something small.

"There's always room for improvement with your attendance, we've already talked about that," Stef continued. "But I have no doubt that you'll be able to keep your grades up."

She paused, wanting to be careful with her phrasing. "We know how much Jude looks up to you—you already know that, Callie. And Mama and I—I guess we're hoping that you can continue being a good example for him when it comes to school, because it doesn't always come easy for him, does it? Being diligent about staying on top of things, giving it your all…encouraging him to come to us, like you do, when you need help. That can be hard," she pointed out, waiting for Callie's acknowledgement before proceeding.

"You've done a great job looking out for Jude this entire time, making sure he's taken care of and safe. So he hasn't really had to take initiative—but that's going to be something he needs if he's going to grow up to be a responsible person, right?" she coaxed, wanting the girl to reach the same conclusion on her own.

Callie swallowed, aware of what Stef was getting at. "I didn't do so great yesterday," she said quietly, knowing it'd been wrong to help Jude cover up his assignments.

The cop smiled. "Honey, we don't expect you to never make mistakes. No one's perfect. All we want is for you two to come to us, even if it's over something you're worried we might get upset over. The best decision is always going to be the honest one but I can't promise that it'll always be the easiest one. Often times it isn't."

She scooted closer to her daughter so that they were now sitting side-by-side, wanting to place clear emphasis on her next point. "Most importantly, even though we want you to encourage Jude to do the right thing, I need you to remember—you are not responsible for him. You are not your brother's keeper, okay?" she reminded, knowing she was introducing a new concept.

"Okay."

"Callie. Yesterday when you said you forged my signature because you were afraid we'd be mad…were you more afraid that we would get mad or that Jude would be in trouble with us?" There was a difference and she wanted to know.

"That Jude would be in trouble," the girl admitted as she looked down at her lap.

Stef nodded slowly; she could understand that rationale. "And did that go the way you planned?"

"For a few days…" Callie said honestly.

Stef cleared her throat to stop herself from laughing at her daughter's transparency. "Yes, I guess you both did manage to keep this from us for a little while. What do you think the consequences would've been had he been up front with us about work that needed to be signed from the beginning?"

"Maybe he would've gotten grounded?"

"Guess that would depend on what your definition of being grounded is. We are going to work together every day after school for the next month so Jude might be disappointed by not being able to see friends after school or go straight to his video gaming with Jesus like he usually does," the woman explained patiently. "We might talk to his teacher to see if any work can be redone. That's it and that's all that it would've been. Everything would've gotten signed and that would've been that."

She gave Callie a knowing look. Unfortunately, that wasn't how things had turned out. "He would not have gotten detention for lying to his teacher—and he definitely wouldn't have lost all of his video games for two weeks because we're not too happy about that, either," she said as her daughter grimaced. She and Lena had felt sorry for him, too. Jude had cried and cried when they had told him.

"And what about you, missy? What would've happened had you told us right off the bat, hmm?" Stef asked, wanting to walk her through the possible scenarios. Callie's gaze immediately met her's, panic etched into her expression.

"Yeah, Jude might've been a bit upset with you, in the way younger brothers usually do…" Stef acknowledged, not wanting to prolong their conversation any more than it needed to be. "But we wouldn't have had to have this talk and you definitely wouldn't be having to explain all this to Mama tonight so we can be sure you understand what I'm telling you," she scolded mildly. "Cal, you could've come to us at any time even after you signed those slips. We would've been less upset if you had told us than us finding out by ourselves. Got it?"

"Yes," Callie replied with sadness. She had really screwed up.

"So what was the better choice?"

"Tell you," Callie said quietly as she hung her head. She really wasn't looking forward to rehashing this with Lena though she knew she deserved it. That being said, she felt better knowing exactly what her consequence was. It was like she could stop worrying about it.

"Good girl," Stef murmured, pulling her daughter in towards her and kissing her temple. "Next time this happens, you will not be getting off the hook so easily, do you hear me? You do not forge anyone's signature, ever." The only reason she and Lena were giving her a free pass this time was because they believed in leniency for honesty. True, Callie had lied by signing those slips—but she had also answered truthfully once everything had unravelled and they felt that was a good start.

Plus, they were fairly confident that the likelihood of this recurring was low. They were planning on keeping closer tabs on Jude's homework and any in-class assignments and tests by way of nightly backpack checks. As well, he had been tasked with writing them into his agenda, which his teacher would check weekly for any discrepancies. This would ensure that whatever needed to come home made it.

"Kay."

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" Stef questioned, suddenly noticing how unwell the girl looked. Callie was swallowing repeatedly, in the way one did when they were on the verge of vomiting.

"Nothing…I'm fine," Callie began. She didn't dare to say anything else as a wave of nausea hit and her stomach revolted, sending food and liquid midway up her food pipe. She closed her eyes—it felt like a burn on the inside.

" _Hey…_ look at me for a sec. Are you getting sick?" the cop fussed, maneuvering around so that she could face her daughter. Her concern grew as she realized that this wasn't the first time Callie looked _off—_ she looked the same way yesterday, in Lena's office. There had been a couple of times over the weekend, too, that made her suspect that Callie might be coming down with something. Bringing the back of her hand to the girl's forehead, she found the skin cold and clammy.

Catching sight of Callie's dark, tired eyes, she kicked herself for not cluing in sooner.

 _She should've known. The headaches, the moodiness. Chills._

 _Symptoms that appeared like clockwork around certain times of day._

"How often were you smoking at school, before last week?" She gently tilted Callie's chin up to hold her gaze. "I want the truth," she added somewhat sternly, having an idea of what the answer might be.

"Just at lunch," Callie answered, before unwillingly adding "morning and afternoon break" to her answer. Her foster mother had raised an eyebrow at her attempt to downplay it and she figured it'd be best to not push her luck today. She'd always been careful to have her last cigarette in the afternoon to make sure that any trace of scent had dissipated by the time she would arrive home. That was how she had kept it hidden for months.

The cop sighed. Unable to have any cigarettes since the suspension, Callie was in withdrawal. "How long have you felt sick for?"

"Since the weekend," Callie mumbled, shaking her way out of the woman's grasp. She was annoyed that Stef was fussing over her but at this point she was too miserable to try and hide anything.

"Oh, Bug. Why didn't you say anything?"

The teen shrugged. "I dunno. I didn't know it had something to do with smoking," she said earnestly.

"We need to know if you're not feeling well, love," Stef reminded. "We might've been able to figure it out sooner and help take the edge off."

Callie smirked. "So…I can have a smoke? To help take the edge off?"

Stef rolled her eyes at how quickly the girl had brightened at what she saw was an opportune moment. "HA! You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She forced her expression to become serious. "I'll think about it."

"Really?" Callie said hopefully.

"Yes—and I'm thinking no. Nice try though, my baby," Stef replied, cracking up at her daughter's sheer disappointment.

Unfortunately for her, though, it was her daughter who won that round.

" _Rascal_! Vultures!" she scolded as Callie handed her the thermos lid, crumpled wax paper, and napkin—taking advantage of her full hands to steal the remainder of her sandwich.

* * *

"This stuff was so helpful when I was quitting," Stef said, adding a bag of salt and vinegar chips to the shopping cart. "It's not so terrible once the cravings pass."

Callie stared incredulously at the pile of sour candies, gum, and electrolyte drinks. She had serious doubts she'd be allowed to eat any of this; buying junk food was one thing but getting it past Lena was a whole other issue. Still, it felt nice _._ No one had ever gone out of their way to buy her things like this before.

"You used to smoke?"

Stef smiled to herself, elated to hear the question from her daughter. After learning Callie was dealing with withdrawal, she had debated over the self-disclosure. In the end, she decided that sharing her experience might encourage Callie to open up.

"I had my first one when I was just a year older than you," she admitted. "It took me over a decade to quit—only after things got serious between Mama and me and she gave me an ultimatum." The cop chuckled softly at the memory. They hadn't been going out for very long at all when Lena had told her how much she hated the habit and declared she wouldn't kiss a chimney. "And let me tell you, it was the best ultimatum ever. It was another six months but I could breathe a whole letter better by the end."

"But why? Why'd you smoke?" Callie demanded of her foster mother without restraint. The revelation surprised her. Stef was a rule follower. She was the police.

It took everything in Stef to keep herself from laughing. Only this kid could become so indignant and wound up over something she herself was guilty of doing, of course.

"I'm not sure, Cal," she said with honesty. "I was spending time with an older crowd and it was easy to experiment. Things were also pretty stressful at home and smoking became an easy solution for me. Before it became a bigger problem, anyway."

She winked kindly at Callie who was listening with rapt attention. "Before I knew it, I was in the force. Life became even more stressful and I was up to a pack a day. A lot of my coworkers smoked and that made it harder to quit."

Now that her daughter was satisfied, it was her turn to ask. "So tell me love, was it juvie that got you smoking?"

Callie shook her head glumly. "I never had enough in my canteen account to buy any." Her Dad couldn't add money and Bill plugged it only when she needed things, like stationary or snacks. "My foster sister always had some." She bit her lip, feeling vulnerable by her disclosure. She didn't want to get into any trouble but also felt as though she needed to say something because Stef had allowed her to skip.

"Ah. I'm guessing she had an older friend or boyfriend who was buying them for her," Stef said casually, determined not to let her emotions show. Callie rarely spoke of prior placements but she had a pretty good idea that this was the same girl who'd landed her in custody.

She wished that she and Lena had gotten the kids sooner. Then Callie and Jude wouldn't have had to go from home to home, the repeated removals a threat to their development. The self-neglect wouldn't have been ignored. They would've seen a doctor regularly and they'd be a healthy weight. Callie would not have been allowed to smoke. They would've had the security of being parented.

"Yeah," the girl admitted, grinning sheepishly at Stef. It was impossible to keep anything from Stef; she knew everything.

"So, you stopped when you went to juvie. What got you started again?" the cop asked gently.

Callie shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno."

There was a small part of her that was annoyed at how unfair this was. Stef had admitted to smoking for a long time and she didn't understand what the big deal was—why she wasn't allowed to do something the cop had at her age.

Sensing what was behind the indignant frown, Stef wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders. "I'm really not trying to give you a hard time but I can see why it might seem that way." She kept her voice quiet to force Callie to tune in. "I'm trying to prevent you from making the same mistake I made because it's easier to stop now than ten years later and I want to save you a whole lot of regret. That's all, baby."

"Are we good?" she prompted, receiving a single nod.

Satisfied she'd been heard, she released Callie from her hold. "Good. Stop moping and choose the cereal for the week."

Her daughter was easily redirected. Callie had had previous opportunities to pick items but she looked every bit as surprised as she'd been the first time she realized she had a choice. "Something healthy. No cocoa flakes or whatever."

"It's cocoa puffs!" Callie corrected, giggling at the error before becoming serious once again.

Despite being full from lunch, the pounding in her head and nausea persisted, making it hard to focus. It didn't help that there were so many different kinds of cereal overwhelming her, either. Some had chocolate mix so plain milk would be transformed into chocolatey goodness while others had tiny marshmallows. She recognized Honey Nut Cheerios, Froot Loops, and Cap'n Crunch, none of which she'd had in years. That was because almost all her placements had brand name items reserved for their real kids. If you were temporary, you got bag cereal. Touching the more expensive stuff—if you were even able to get your hands on it—was a tried and true way of getting punished.

"Uhm…Froot Loops?" Callie suggested tentatively, though she was feeling more courageous. "It's made of fruit," she said with mischievousness. She pointed to the box and looking at her foster mother hopefully.

"Mhm, very helpful." Stef raised a brow at her child, though she was secretly thrilled Callie was testing her over something as simple as cereal.

She groaned, already hearing her wife going on about the GMOs, artificial flavouring, additives, and sugar content. "Are you trying to give Mama a fit?"

"You really want something with fruit in it?"

"Yeah…" Callie said, giving her the pleading, endearing look of a police puppy in training.

"Alright, alright. Cheerios it is! We'll make sure to put some bananas and strawberries in it for you," she managed before laughing.

"Come here," she sympathized as Callie grumbled about it being her turn and how it wasn't the same. Bringing her close to her side again, she kissed her on the temple. "Froot Loops are in the banished cabinet at home." She guffawed as Callie wormed her way out of her grasp to scrutinize her face to make sure she wasn't being played.

"Do you want me to get Toasted O's for me and Jude?" the girl asked, referring to the generic brand as she begrudgingly threw the Cheerios into the cart.

" _Stef_!" she exclaimed at seeing she was already trailing behind. She scrambled to push the shopping cart to the meat department, where the cop was making a beeline.

"Nope! One family, one cereal!"


	34. Taming Worry Dragons

**Author Note:**

Thanks for the warm welcome back, friends! So happy to see many who are still reading. Lots going on here (prepping for a big move currently) but so far I've been diligent about writing each night to keep me grounded.

Callie is slowly opening up and will continue to do so... Like most children, her capacity to deal with a complex situations is limited and fraught with mixed emotions-so reestablishing trust is going to be a tedious, back and forth process. Definitely there will be a time that Callie eventually approaches the Moms about Jeanine, but I'm not sure she has it in her to make the first move.

Hope you enjoy this next chapter, ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 32:** Taming Worry Dragons

Callie was really enjoying how the afternoon had been going. Although still battling some residual queasiness, lunch had helped and the worst of it had now passed. As Callie followed her foster mother through the store, periodically being asked for her opinion on snacks or meals, she was reminded of the countless times she had done groceries with her own Mom. How Jude would happily chatter away in his stroller as long as she had a bag of carrots or a cauliflower head to hug to his small body. It became less easy as he got older, and her role had eventually morphed into chasing him around the store so Mom could focus on getting everything they needed.

This activity had simply vanished once she and Jude had entered care. Food suddenly became something that was tightly controlled and they had quickly learned that it wasn't smart to ask for it. Nor was it a good idea to try and help yourself. Food appeared, and just as easily disappeared.

It was a tough pill to swallow, coming from a home where whatever they wanted to eat they usually got, so long as it fit into the budget. Her Mom was not a good cook and they had had many strange meals growing up—hot dog weiners on minute rice was one that came to mind—but they never went hungry.

This house was different from any of the families she and Jude had stayed with. While there were rules around processed food and the women disapproved when snacking happened too close to meals, they were never not allowed to eat. In fact, she and Jude were constantly reminded to take whatever they needed from the kitchen without having to ask. Everything—the fridge, cabinets, and pantry which were usually filled to overflowing—was left unlocked, day and night. Seconds and thirds were always offered at each meal so that if you weren't full, it was hard to pretend you were and turn down food. And while Stef would complain that they were eating them out of house and home and that all her overtime hours were going towards their stomachs…she always said it happily, like she didn't truly mean it.

Grocery shopping was an errand that all the kids were expected to help out with, too. The last time she'd gone with Lena, she had been asked for one meal she wanted to have that week. When she came up with chicken and corn, it'd been easily granted, as if it wasn't a big deal at all. Together, they checked on which cut looked the best and the very next night they had homemade Shake n' Bake drumsticks with barbecued corn. Stef had even made veggie kebabs and potato salad as sides. It had been so easy, the experience filled with the warmth and familiarity of being part of a family and being cared for.

* * *

As Stef had anticipated, pulling Callie from classes so she could have her along for the rest of the day had been the right thing to do. With some guidance, her daughter had picked two meals: chilli mac n' cheese with kidney beans and tuna surprise with peas. Subtle traces of Callie's initial reservation at spending time together remained. She was quiet, keeping her responses polite and to a minimum. However, her overall demeanour was noticeably more animated and as time went on, she was easier to engage—smiling, making eye contact, and elaborating just a little bit more.

For the first time in days, it felt as though the dark clouds that'd been hanging over them were parting to let in some light. Seeing Callie begin to relax, the cop felt the weight of her own worries ease from her shoulders.

It was why she had no qualms about sending the girl across the parking lot on a coffee run while she waited in line to pay. Knowing Callie, she was probably dying to have some independence after being carefully watched following all of last week's adventures. To be honest, she needed the space, too.

Plus, in order to reassure Callie that she was well on her way to earning back their trust and to show how things _could_ be if they continued to go well, the reins needed to be loosened a little. A short-term task where the chance of success was high would be a promising way to start.

"Here, Cal." She pulled a twenty from her wallet and handed it to the girl. "You must be hungry by now and I am fading her. Why don't you head over and get us some lattes and cinnamon twists?" she suggested, nodding towards the cafe.

Callie stared at the money in disbelief. "Okay. You mean, like…now?"

"Yes. _Like now_ ," the woman over enunciated. It was an ongoing challenge, to encourage their children to speak properly. "Straight to the car as soon as you're done, okay Sweets?"

"Okay!" the girl said excitedly, delighted she was allowed to go off by herself.

"You remember where we're parked? 1D." Though the storefront could easily be seen from where she stood in line, she was slightly apprehensive—the panic from when Callie had taken off last week still fresh in her mind.

"Yeah!"

* * *

Stef immediately felt her blood pressure spike when she arrived at the car half an hour later and her daughter was not there waiting as she had been instructed. She hadn't expected that it would've taken her that long to get through the checkout, but the cashier whose line she had been in had brought on a trainee which slowed things down significantly. By then, the groceries were on the conveyer belt and it would've been more work to bail than to wait it out.

As the cop loaded bags into the trunk, she tried not to get too worked up in regretting that she had let Callie out of her sight. Scanning the vicinity, she suddenly had the sense to double check the sign demarcating the section she had parked in— _1D—_ before it dawned on her where her daughter might be. She locked the door and walked over to the next section, making it past a few rows before opting to go back for the car for efficiency's sake.

Nearly fifteen minutes later and having searched _1C_ in its entirety, Stef found Callie in _1E._ It wasn't difficult to see how the mistake had been made. The spot the girl was in was identical in relation to the shopping cart return area and the landscaping for that section as the stall she had originally been in. Not to mention how similar _D_ and _E_ sounded.

Stef rolled down the passenger window as she idled the car at the end of the stall. "Callie!" she called. The girl was sitting on the low concrete divider that separated the stalls with her head in her hands, looking down. Between her feet was the travel tray of coffee and donuts. When Callie didn't appear to hear her, she tapped the horn lightly.

Her heart sank as her daughter's head jolted up and she caught sight of the astonished, forlorn expression on her face.

Although she was relieved to have Callie within her sight again, it quickly became evident that the girl was far from okay. The flushed, moist cheeks and reddened eyes gave away that she'd been crying. And having been outside in the heat for an extended period of time, her hair stuck to her forehead and the neckline and underarms of her grey t-shirt were drenched with sweat. Stef sighed, remembering that Callie was due for a shower check tonight—meaning that there would be much protesting and passive resistance.

"Bug," she murmured in a sympathetic tone. She grabbed the water bottle from the cooler bag behind her seat, untwisting the lid before placing it in the cupholder. Because her daughter would never ask.

"Hi," Callie mumbled. Not wanting her foster mother know she was crying, she turned to the window to brush her tears away.

"Hey…it's alright, we just got separated there," Stef consoled as they came to a stop at a red light. "I'm so sorry, honey. It's all my fault," she said, kicking herself for not having made sure Callie had the section right before letting her go. At the same time, she was trying to be careful with her words, not wanting to embarrass her daughter—or worse, minimize her feelings.

"I was starting to get scared, too," she admitted, thinking that sharing her anxiety might help Callie realize that she hadn't been alone in her fear.

Her hope was shut down quickly.

"I don't want to talk…I—I want to go home," Callie pleaded, her voice pitching with desperation. Frustrated she couldn't get a handle on her emotions, she reclined the seat slightly so she could curl her entire body away from the driver's side.

It wasn't that she was mad at the cop. She just couldn't cope with having to talk to Stef on top of trying to process everything that had happened. Not when she was already this tired.

 _Callie beamed with pride as she made her way through the lot, cinnamon twists and coffees in hand. She checked both ways before crossing the pedestrian walkway, paying attention to any cars that were backing up as she crossed several rows. It was a busy afternoon and the only parking spots that had been available when they arrived were off to the side—in the middle of a row directly across from the shopping cart return. Using the entrance to the parkade to landmark, she found the cart station and looked to the opposite side at the stall they'd left the car in._

 _Unable to see the black Explorer, she took a deep breath as she double checked her surroundings. Her back was to to the shopping carts. From where she stood, Callie could easily spot the large sign on the grocery storefront. To the right was the green privacy fencing, landscaped with trees and shrubbery, and the main entrance to the parking lot._

 _She was in the right place…but their spot was empty._

 _As Callie began to frantically go up and down each row, her pace quickened to rival her heart rate, which was now racing in its panic. Not having any luck, she returned to the first stall—the one she was certain they'd been in before. By then, the recycled paper travel tray was soggy, drenched from coffee sloshing out of the to-go cups and dripping down the sides as she ran._

 _She was keeping it together until she reached into her pocket and her fingers grazed the ten dollar bill and loose change. The twenty had initially seemed like a lot of money for what she had been asked to buy, but now everything was beginning to make sense._

 _It had left her with more than enough for bus fare._

 _Two servings of a coffee and donut was one for now and another for later._

 _Knowing that she would need to figure out how to get directions to the nearest shelter without a phone, Callie sat down on the concrete divider in the stall. She soon gave up when the only thought that occupied her mind was how Stef had sent her to the coffee shop with the intention of having enough time to pay and drive away without her noticing._

 _A little while later, it sank in that Stef was gone._

 _Only then did she know to cry._

* * *

The cop glanced over worriedly at the young girl as she pulled into the driveway. Wanting to respect Callie's request not to talk and knowing she was probably feeling self-conscious, Stef had turned on the radio, keeping the volume just high enough to offer some privacy. Realizing that there had been no movement from the seat beside her in over ten minutes, she was starting to think her daughter had drifted off—which only set off another cascade of concerns that Callie was not getting enough rest.

It was why Stef was so surprised to hear her speak up out of the blue.

"You came back," Callie said hoarsely. Not wanting to look at the cop, she kept her gaze out the window.

Puzzled by the statement, Stef frowned. "Of course I did, Sweets. Why wouldn't I have come back?"

She recognized as soon as she'd uttered the words, that for her daughter to be surprised she had returned, she must have thought that she had been left behind. That there had been a point in which Callie had been convinced no one would be coming for her.

The girl's reaction, which Stef had initially perceived as being a little over the top, suddenly made more sense. She let out a discouraged sigh as she turned off the radio; despite her understanding, she was at a complete loss as to what could be done about Callie's lack of security and anxiety. She and Lena had been trying hard to demonstrate that their living arrangement was permanent—and that their interest in having her and Jude a part of their family was genuine. The adoption was lined up and they made sure to talk about it often with the siblings, who always seemed excited by the idea. All that was left was to get through the next couple months without any more major bumps. Still, the cop had a feeling that there was a very real possibility that the adoption wouldn't erase all of Callie's insecurity.

Stef paused, considering how to best proceed before she killed the engine and walked around the SUV to open the passenger side door.

"Sit up," she instructed gently. She waited patiently as Callie did a halfhearted followthrough—swinging her legs off the side to face her before slumping against the seat, cheek pressed into the leather.

The woman smiled; at least there was some eye contact now.

Determined to provide her daughter with some comfort and keep her attention, she caressed Callie's thick hair, brushing the matted curls away from her face.

"I never— _never_ left you," Stef said softly. Her heart broke for a second time that day as the girl stared doubtfully at her.

"I need you to say it back to me, Sweetheart."

"You didn't leave me," Callie said shakily. In her relief and exhaustion, that was all it took for the dam holding back her tears to break. This time, she didn't bother hiding them.

"No, I didn't. Never," Stef repeated, wanting desperately for her daughter to believe her. "Is that what you thought—that I left you behind?" This was something that needed to be addressed and she wasn't going to let this go easily.

She wasn't at all surprised when Callie shrugged. The look on her face said it all. _Kinda_. _Maybe._

The girl dug the receipt and change out from her pocket before handing it to her."You gave me extra money."

It took a while for Stef to understand. "Yes, I did. Because I went to the ATM yesterday and they only do withdrawals in twenty dollar bills. And I thought a little extra would be good in case you happened to see something else you wanted to try."

Callie nodded reluctantly. That thought hadn't crossed her mind at all.

Stef pointed to the travel cups that sat untouched in the car. "Could you pass those to me?" She placed them on the roof so they wouldn't be forgotten. "I wouldn't have asked you to buy me a coffee if I wasn't planning on having one."

"I thought maybe it was three o' clock snack and dinner," Callie mumbled, mortified at how wrong her thinking had been. "Sorry…"

Stef cocked her head slightly, trying not to let her humour show. "Oh, Callie. That was not it at all, Bug."

She was caught completely off guard when the girl hopped down from the car, wrapping her arms around her neck in the process. The force was great enough to leave her winded.

"What…what's this for?" Stef managed as she struggled to free herself to reciprocate.

"Honey…" she fussed as her daughter began to cry softly and she felt tears slip onto the nape of her neck. "It's okay. It's okay. We got separated by accident, that's all that it was—nothing more than that," she reassured, wanting to ease Callie's distress as much as her's.

The thought of how lucky they were that Callie happened to stay in the parking lot, rather than giving up and leaving, was making her emotional. "Don't cry, darling. You did the right thing by staying in one place."

"I thought you weren't gonna come back!" Callie admitted as she drew in a shuddering breath. It had been a long time since she had found comfort in the presence of an adult, and as much as she was uncertain about the cop, this whole experience had been a reminder that she didn't have anyone else.

"Love!" the cop exclaimed in dismay. "I would _never_ consider leaving you behind _anywhere_ with the intention of not returning. I will always come back for you."


	35. Making Wisdom out of Wounds

**Author Note**

If you celebrated Halloween, hope you had a good one! I'm still settling into my new digs but so far new neighbours seem like solid people. We're the youngest on the cul-de-sac so I'm feeling the pressure to make a good first impression.

Finally got this chapter to a place I'm happy with, but am somewhat nervous to post. It's an important one and hopefully it lives up to expectations. Callie takes some risks here and Lena gets a milestone of her own.

Definitely some potential here for some great one shots and/or flashbacks, too. If anyone's interested, they're your's for the taking. Just PM me because I'd love to read them. ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 33:** Making Wisdom out of Wounds

"Five minutes. That's all you're getting," Stef said firmly as she fiddled with the timer on her phone.

"But I need the bathroom—" Callie began to protest.

"There is no way you need to use the bathroom. You were just in there," the cop replied, unable to hide her exasperation any longer. By now, it was well over an hour since she had first started trying to get Callie into the shower and she had had enough of the girl's stalling.

Feeling her patience run thin, Stef took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Callie needed to finish by ten in order to get to bed on time but as it edged closer to nine thirty, that was looking more and more unlikely. Especially since she needed help with her routine tonight. Often, she and Lena would send her back into the shower after checking. And Callie usually needed assistance with some of the steps, like combing out her hair and trimming her nails—making for a lengthy process.

To be fair, part of Stef's annoyance stemmed from circumstances that had little to do with her daughter. While she was grateful that they'd been able to spend the afternoon together and would do so again without a second thought, it also meant that she had missed half her workday. She was now anxiously awaiting for the children to be in bed for the night so she could catch up. But on top of that, the cop was worried about Callie. Getting separated in the parking lot had clearly played on some of the girl's fears and done a number on her sense of security—she had avoided the family all evening and had returned to keeping her and Lena at arm's length.

Having learned about what Callie had endured in the bathroom, she understood the reason for resistance. Used to not having any control over their circumstances or what happened to them, bathing was an area of exemption—one that the kids had always been in charge of and weren't willing to give up. Unfortunately, both were in desperate need of guidance because their lack of attention to hygiene bordered on self-neglect. The women were willing to try anything to increase positive associations to temper the negative experiences and to incentivize it. They had also considered appropriate ways to facilitate independence with the task itself. Things like offering choices between baths and showers, getting a shower radio, or encouraging use of the ensuite so privacy could still be had if Callie or Jude wanted the door open.

Which was what Stef had been trying to do. "You are picking a soap right now so what will it be?"

She and Callie were standing before the linen closet off the master where extra supplies were kept—the girl trapped between her and the bathroom. In the bedroom, Lena was folding and putting away laundry, likely amused at her failed attempts thus far to cajole their daughter into the shower. Having had her turn washing both kids' hair earlier that week, it was not surprising that Lena was staying out of the current battle.

"Quickly, please. You're down to the wire, missy," Stef said, holding up the countdown on her phone. She picked up a bottle of Lena's expensive bubble bath. "Cucumber melon? I bet that smells nice."

Callie scrunched her nose and stepped back as if offended.

" _What,_ Callie? What? It's not hard. Pick or I will do it for you." She sighed, regretting her sternness when the girl's face sank.

"Please, honey," Stef tried again, not below begging at this point. "It's getting late. You need to wash your hair tonight and we have to comb it out and wait for it to dry. I don't want you going to bed with a wet head."

"Mama said bubble baths give you a UTI," Callie informed her seriously.

Stef cleared her throat as unexpected tears pricked her eyes.

 _How could she have been so short with her sweet girl?_

In her periphery, she saw Lena immediately stop what she was doing, one hand clamped over her mouth. No matter how old their kids were when they first called them some variation of Mom, it was always incredibly special and filled with mixed emotions. Usually the joy of being pegged first was tinged with guilt for the parent who wasn't. And for the one who wasn't first? Self-doubt and second-guessing about the quality of attachment with the child usually ensued, intertwined with jealously.

From the way Callie had pronounced the word, they both knew she'd been referring to Lena. How she called Colleen was more like _mom_ —ma. Plus, Lena often used the UTI angle with all the kids to encourage them to be thorough in caring for their bodies.

"Yes, they can. That's why it's important to always rinse off in the shower after you're done. To prevent that from happening."

Callie frowned at the idea of both a bath and a shower. _No thank you._

"Thank you for deciding," Stef praised as the girl went for the Ivory Lavender body wash.

"I need my towel and pyjamas," Callie said, attempting to quickly sidestep past her.

"Ah—ah— _ah_! Oh no you don't." No longer willing to put up with any more runaround, the cop did the same to block Callie's path. "There are fresh towels in there, as is a new facecloth. Your PJs were just washed and are on the bed," she said sternly.

Callie bit her lip, searching for another excuse. "But—"

"No. No buts. Except your's, in there," Stef said, steering her by the shoulders toward the bath. "Now march. The faster you move, the faster we'll be done." She felt bad, knowing that the reticence was over the shower check; however, it was desperately needed. Callie had missed a couple showers this week already. There was two day old pen ink on her forearm and her nails had dirt beneath them. Every so often, she'd catch a whiff of the girl's feet, which reeked.

"When you're finished I will help you do your hands and feet so you can be done."

"I don't need help…" Callie protested halfheartedly as she squirmed her way out of her foster mother's hold.

Stef crossed her arms, both amused and relieved that her daughter was challenging her. "Not a choice, Cal. Your feet are the feetiest feet that have ever feeted, sweets. I can smell them now—in fact, I could smell them from all the way across the table tonight at dinner."

"They do not!" Callie argued, hurt. She looked down—she couldn't smell anything and she was closer to her feet than Stef was.

Feeling defeated, she let herself be pushed into the bathroom before the timer went off.

* * *

"There's clean underwear here for you," Stef called over the running water.

Safely hidden behind the shower curtain, Callie rolled her eyes. She could've picked her own clothes if she had been allowed to go back to her room.

As Stef collected the laundry strewn all over the tiled floor, she caught sight of the body wash and neatly folded face cloth on the tub ledge. Both items were bone dry. She frowned, suddenly aware that the sound of the water hitting the bathtub was static. Meaning that her daughter was not scrubbing but was instead letting the water run over her.

"How are the shower steps going?" she asked warily.

"Good."

The cop crossed her arms, giving her head a shake as she tried to figure out how to best go about addressing this. After all that, she was determined not to let go of her efforts to get Callie to clean herself properly.

"Okay…I'm going to assume that you're still working on your hair then because I can see that you haven't gotten around to using the soap yet," Stef mentioned casually.

"I got shampoo on my body," Callie countered. The protest quickly died on her lips upon hearing the woman's firm reply.

"Shampoo is for your hair. You need to use the body wash."

"Okay," Callie replied, stopping herself from groaning like she really wanted to. She didn't get what the big deal was—she could see the suds on her skin. Soap was soap!

Stef smiled, satisfied as she watched her daughter's arm snake around the curtain and fumble for the container. Callie was testing her again—slowly but surely—and honestly, she couldn't be happier by it.

"Thank you. I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, remembering she'd forgotten Callie's water and chewable multivitamin. "Use the brush there to scrub under your nails, okay? And don't forget to wash your neck, armpits, and—"

"— _Okay_! I know!" Callie exclaimed before her foster mother could go into any further detail.

She didn't understand why Stef and Lena insisted on supervising her in the shower. It wasn't fair that she wasn't allowed to do something on her own that she knew how to. It was embarrassing, and the indignation was only made worse with the awareness that there was absolutely nothing she could do to change their mind.

Tired and frustrated but not knowing how else to respond, Callie held her breath and turned to face the water.

Just last week, she didn't care what they thought; it'd felt like she had nothing to lose. But after today, it felt like she had everything to lose.

* * *

Stef poked her head in the doorway. "How are you doing in there, love?"

"I'm done!" Callie called as she finished up.

"You get all the shampoo out of your hair?"

"Uh huh."

"What about your nails? Are they clean?" Stef prompted. She would be checking anyway but wanted to give the girl a chance to show that she was capable and independent.

Callie glanced at her hands. "Yeah. I used the brush," she said, anxious to show she could listen and be diligent.

"Wonderful," the woman approved despite her reservations. "And feet?" She stifled a laugh as she heard the squeaking of bare feet scrambling against the bathtub floor. _That would be a no._

"Mhm, they're good!" Callie insisted, splaying her toes under the stream of water. She was getting impatient and wanted to get out now.

"Be there soon, Bug."

Hoping her feet would be clean enough to pass her foster mother's scrutiny, Callie shut off the tap. She peered around the curtain to make sure Stef was no longer there, then grabbed the towel and underwear off the rack. As best she could while standing on the slippery surface, Callie hurried to dry off and struggle to pull the bottoms over still wet skin.

When Stef showed up not too long after, the girl had the towel tightly wrapped around her. She checked Callie's hair right away. Pleased to find it clear of any shampoo residue, she twisted it in sections to squeeze out the excess water before rubbing in the leave-in conditioner.

"Oww," Callie whined as her foster mother quickly combed out her curls and began to pull it into a bun.

"Oh, hush. That did not hurt," Stef soothed, noticing the impatient scowl make its way across her child's face.

Callie tried to stand still. Okay, so maybe it didn't _hurt_ but it didn't feel good to have it yanked, either.

Not wanting her daughter to get too cold, Stef wrapped the second towel around Callie's shoulders. She then removed the extendable shower head from its cradle, gently letting it hang against the tile. "Alright, honey," she said as she rolled up her pants and straddled the tub edge. "Time for your feet."

Judging by how slippery the tub was, she had her reservations that Callie had managed to get all the soap off. Given the time, however, it'd have to do. The most important part was getting her hair and feet done because they were often the most neglected.

"Hold onto me," Stef instructed, guiding the girl's hands to her shoulders. "That's right, just like that." She helped Callie lift one foot up for a cursory inspection before setting it down again. There was definitely some work to do.

"I washed them already," Callie protested, discouraged to see the cop turn on the water to rinse out the washcloth. Regardless of whether it was Stef or Lena who was doing it, she always hated this part.

"You did, did you?" Stef said casually. Making sure her daughter still had a grip on her, she brought the foot back up and gently rotated it inward so she could show Callie the inside of her ankle. "This is soap scum," she said, pointing to the dark patch before tackling the offending spot with the cloth.

"When you wash, you need to actually scrub," she reminded as she moved onto the outer edges of the foot. Eventually, she decided to forgo the cloth in favour of using her thumb to rub at the skin, which was still moist enough that the residue easily came off.

She shook her head in amusement as the girl complained and fidgeted throughout the process. _Callie and Jude were definitely related._

Callie was mortified as she watched the greyish, eraser-like rubbings form on her skin and fall away. She hadn't realized that the dirt would've come back so soon since the last time when Lena had helped her. If so, she would've tried harder—but either way, it wasn't like it was causing any harm.

"I didn't know that soap was dirty…"

"Well, it is when it mixes with dead skin, sweat, and oil."

"That's why we shouldn't use it too much," Callie piped up, trailing off as the cop levelled her with an unimpressed gaze.

"Very funny, missy. Watch out or that's all you're getting at Christmas," Stef threatened, purposely venturing to the sole of Callie's foot to cause her to giggle in ticklishness. Picking up the washcloth again, she began to work on the toes.

"Callie. Look at this gunk," she said, cringing at the toe jam. Did you just stand under the water?" she asked the guilty face staring back at her.

The woman sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was to embarrass her. At the same time, there was pressure to have Callie master responsibility for her hygiene—which would only be harder once her cycle started if they couldn't get a routine in place now. It was only a matter of time. Callie was the right age; her body was waiting for stress levels to diminish and for a bit of weight gain.

"Hey…I know I'm harping on you. But I don't want you to get a foot infection, especially since you have one pair of shoes you like to wear." She considered throwing those shoes into the machine when Callie was asleep. "You gotta try and stay on top of it. Every time you shower, okay? Just like this."

"Okay," Callie replied sadly. To be honest, she didn't know to clean there. She changed her socks everyday and had thought that that would've been good enough. No one had ever told her otherwise. Although embarrassed, she felt safe, remembering that her Mom used to help her like Stef and Lena did. Then a smaller version of herself, she was able to fit across the tub comfortably and would often dangle one leg out of the warm suds at a time so her feet and knees could be scrubbed.

Callie's heart fell. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the feeling of being taken care of, but she resented how much she had begun to rely upon the women—especially knowing Stef didn't want her. Despite her efforts to keep herself and Jude from getting too attached, she had gradually gotten used to their warmth and the safety she felt when with them. How they treated them as if one of their own. There were times that she felt like she might even love them—that maybe they loved her back, too—and caught herself imagining being a part of their family for a long time. It hadn't been an expectation when she'd first met them, but simply how things had turned out.

Noticing her daughter's expression cloud over, Stef winked and gave her a soft smile. Satisfied that the skin was looking significantly brighter, she tapped Callie's other foot to repeat the process.

It was only when Callie twitched her foot away that she saw the dollar-sized bruise at the base of the big toe. Frowning, she tried to get a better angle on it in the light. Luckily, there was no swelling at the joint. "Does it hurt?" she questioned as Callie shook her head.

"When did this happen?"

Callie hesitated as her mind raced to come up with an explanation. "I tripped," she said reluctantly, avoiding her foster mother's eyes as much as it was possible while holding onto her.

"When did you trip?" Stef pressed, deciding to go along with the story. The girl bit her lip, making her even more suspicious.

"Oh…uhm, today…in the parking lot."

"This looks older than something that happened today, love," the cop pointed out mildly, wanting to make it clear she wasn't buying it. There was not an ounce of confidence in Callie's answer, giving away that she wasn't being honest. Not to mention that she could see, by the swirls of green and yellow, that the bruise wasn't fresh but about a week old. Maybe a little less.

Knowing she wasn't going to get the truth out of Callie anytime soon, Stef let it drop. She continued working on that foot before moving on to tackle the back of her daughter's knees. Once satisfied that they were sufficiently clean, she turned on the water, making sure it was warm before rinsing down Callie's legs.

"Lift," she instructed. The girl complied, letting her do the soles of her feet before stepping out onto the bathmat. Removing her own leg from the tub so she could have her back to the tiled wall, Stef maneuvered Callie by the arms so that her daughter was standing between her legs facing her.

Callie swallowed, anticipating what was coming. She should've known that the cop would not be letting go of this easily.

"Alright. We both know that this did not happen today." Stef gestured to the bruise. "Can you try again and tell me what happened? Please?" she begged, searching the girl's face.

"Baby, this is not something you can keep from me," she coaxed when Callie remained silent. It was only a matter of time before the truth would come out.

"I got scared—I was running and I fell," the girl finally mumbled in a defeated tone.

"Okay. You got scared," Stef validated. She rubbed Callie's upper arms through the towel she'd placed around her shoulders. _Now they were getting somewhere._

"What got you scared?" she pressed, assuming it had been Mike. This time, she waited patiently, letting the silence settle in as Callie stubbornly refused to tell her. "C'mon, honey. You can do it," she encouraged as she tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"…I…I tripped on my bed," Callie continued after a length of time. "My foot got caught on the frame." She knew that there was no way the woman would back off, but wanting to avoid embarrassment badly enough, she continued to skirt the question.

Seeing nothing but concern and confusion knitted into Stef's brow, she sighed. She always felt a twinge of regret whenever she tried to hide things from either of the women.

"After I got in trouble with you." Her voice pitched, forcing her to stop. Ashamed by the admission, she gave an awkward shrug.

Stef's breath caught in her throat as what Callie was telling her sank in.

 _No._

 _No._

 _No._

"You were afraid of me?" What came out as a question was in actuality, more of a statement. And although she already knew what the answer would be, she was dismayed when Callie shifted her attention away, uncomfortable.

" _Oh_ …my love, I am so, _so_ sorry," she gasped, choking up at the thought of her child running away from her because she was terrified. Of _her_ , not just of the consequences. "I never wanted you to be afraid of me, honey." Arms occupied by holding the towel around Callie's upper body, she let the tears slip steadily down her face.

Surprised by the tremor in her foster mother's voice, Callie stared worriedly at her. Stef looked old and sad, and tired—so much so that she felt awful that she'd made her cry.

It was an expression that her Mom often wore when they had shared some difficult days together. Days when the apartment was a mess, dinner was burnt, Jude was tantrum-y, and Dad would call to say he needed to stay late at work when all of them had been holding out for him to come home.

The same, frustrated look her Mom would sometimes give her after she'd pushed her buttons all day—which would automatically make her regret disappointing her or being so determined not to listen. _"I need you to ease up on me, Callie!"_ she used to remember her saying _._

Suddenly, Callie felt very guilty, understanding that she'd done the same to Stef. "Sorry for not listening," she whispered. "And for running in the house."

"That's not the issue—not even close," Stef said sadly, shaking her head. This was not her daughter's fault in any way. "You didn't have any idea what was going on, did you?"

Callie shrugged as she played with the label on the towel _._ She knew _now_ that Stef wouldn't have beat her—but when it happened, she hadn't had enough time to think it through to be sure about anything. It was foolish…but she had just wanted to get away.

"It's okay, it was an accident. You didn't do this," she reassured, looking the cop in the eye to let her know she really was okay. Finding her courage, she took her thumbs and wiped away her foster mother's tears—just as Stef had done for her countless times before.

Troubled that the cop still appeared upset, she patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm okay—not scared anymore." Then, for good measure: "My foot looked pretty ugly but it didn't hurt for that long."

Quietly watching the exchange unfold from where she stood in the doorway, Lena fought to maintain her composure. It was an emotional sight—her wife sitting on the tub edge, one leg drenched and water all over the front of her shirt, while their young daughter spoke to her like an adult trying to console her.

* * *

She didn't want to do this. Not in the bathroom—not with what she knew about what Jeanine had done to Callie in there. But here they were, and after days of silence from Callie, it seemed as though her daughter was willing—and more importantly, ready to talk. Out of fear the opportunity might not come up again, Stef was determined to run with the momentum.

That being said, the pressure to get it right was overwhelming. Push too hard and she could risk having Callie make another negative association with the room. But treading too cautiously could easily give the impression she wasn't comfortable talking—or worse, send a message that the feelings her daughter had experienced were something to be ashamed about.

Sensing her wife's dilemma, Lena knocked and stuck her head in the doorway. She wanted to let both of them know that she was present. "Hi, love. All clean?" she asked as the girl nodded her insistence.

The cop raised an eyebrow. " _Almost_ ," she clarified. "We need to do your nails, then you're free to go."

* * *

"Not too bad at all," Stef praised as she did a once over with the nail brush for good measure. Her back killing her after bending into the tub for an extended length of time, she had had Callie jump up onto the counter for this part. That way, she could stretch out her lumbar muscles.

"You know, I've been replaying that day over and over in my head," she began as she retrieved the clipper from the medicine cabinet. Scrutinizing the girl's hands, she decided to start with the hangnail on the index finger. "Mama and I've discussed it so many times…and one thing I never, ever wanted to do was the hurt your dignity, or make you feel unloved or unsafe with us or in our home."

She smiled sadly at Callie, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm so sorry that when I disciplined you I didn't consider how it'd put you back in a situation you had no control over. One that was chaotic and unpredictable. That wasn't fair. You didn't deserve to be scared like that, at any time. No one does."

Had she been aware of the series of unfortunate events leading up to Callie's decision to enter the safe, she would've taken a very different approach. She would've discussed the consequence with Callie first to make sure her child fully understood what would happen so it wouldn't have been out of the blue. And if there wasn't understanding, she would've made different choices. More than that, she wouldn't have even let it get to that point. That day had been sour from the start, unravelling well before the session. But instead of turning things around before they deteriorated, she had simply chosen to ignore them.

Callie's eyes widened as she listened intently. Never had she had a foster parent apologize for their decisions before.

"I—I wish I could rewind that day, Bug. You'd been trying to tell me what you needed all day but I wasn't making much of an effort to hear you," Stef said, admitting that she hadn't been as understanding and accepting of her daughter as she hoped to be.

"I did take Dr. Wiseman's side, didn't I?" she asked, chuckling when Callie nodded uncertainly at her. "I was so focused on what I thought you needed to do…on what she wanted you to do, that I couldn't accept that you might have just needed more time."

Recalling the angry words she'd directed at the cop after Mike had brought her home, Callie felt her cheeks flush. She shrugged. "It's okay. I shouldn't have lied."

Stef shook her head; she couldn't allow Callie to take responsibility for her own presumptuousness and poor judgment that day. "No, it's not okay. You lied because you weren't ready, not because you were trying to be difficult, and I should have stuck up for you. It wasn't my place to make sure you were telling the truth."

She took a deep breath, trying not to cry all over again as she remembered her daughter's desperation for her to stay the moment she realized she was going to be left alone with Dr. Wiseman. _Callie had trusted her enough, then, to ask her to stay with her, and she'd refused._

"We ended up talking about one of the other foster homes you and Jude were in…which made you think about some things that happened there that you weren't ready to discuss or think about," Stef suggested, gently stroking the girl's face as she studied her expression. She wanted to make some progress but wouldn't risk taking things so far that it'd be triggering.

"Yeah," Callie admitted, all of a sudden feeling vulnerable. She figured by how Stef was acting, that maybe she had found out the truth about what had happened with Jeanine. But although she had been angry with the cop for making her talk to Dr. Wiseman, she never once blamed her for what that woman had done. How could she? "You didn't know."

"I didn't know," Stef said regretfully, confirming her suspicions.

"But I should have respected that it was your story to tell. Not mine—and not _anyone_ else's. You were right about that, too, and I'd take it back if I could. I'm sorry, honey."

"That's why you ran away, wasn't it?" Stef went on. She trusted that Callie would correct her if she was wrong, but she was convinced that her daughter had had a panic attack—alone—while the adults were debriefing. Callie had passed her in the waiting room, on the way to the bathroom, before she disappeared.

" _Callie…"_ she murmured as the girl wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Remembering her absolute need to get away from that bathroom, Callie shuddered. She couldn't explain what had happened that caused her to run; it had all unfolded quickly. Before she knew it, she'd gotten lost. Mike had shown up out of the blue and she was taken to the cruiser.

"You were scared when you got back here," Stef ventured a guess. The girl nodded her admission. "What happened then?" she asked, inviting her to speak—progress was contingent on participation.

Callie winced at the memory. "You…you were really mad because I wasn't listening and then we were yelling at each other."

"We did do that, didn't we?" The woman's eyes glistened at hearing the earnest takeaway of that situation. "You weren't the only one not doing a good job at listening that day. I—I wasn't being very fair to you when I accused you of running away out of spite because we made you go to the appointment. I'm sorry."

 _No wonder Callie had accused her of always thinking the worst of her._ In hindsight, the girl had been trying to tell her, in her own way, what was going on. But she had been so focused on laying down the law and figuring out how to ask Mike not to document the whole incident that she'd missed it.

"Mama and I have always asked that you come to us first, but I didn't make it safe at all for you to do so that day. That wasn't fair, love. It was not fair and I was wrong."

"I'm sorry, too," Callie apologized, still ashamed at how she'd behaved when she'd came home. She frowned, thinking hard of what Stef and Lena had said before. "We can't always control our feelings, but—uhm. We still have to own up to what we do," she said seriously. "I shouldn't have broken so many rules or been disrespectful."

The woman laughed softly; so Callie did listen. Returning the nail clipper to its shelf, she found Lena's file and began to smooth down the freshly trimmed edges. "Yes. But you being disrespectful doesn't automatically mean you stop deserving respect. Make sense?"

"Yeah."

"You panicked when I sent you upstairs," Stef said gently, setting aside the nail file so she could make eye contact. She needed to monitor her daughter's reaction very closely. "That's why you opened my safe…you were looking for a way to feel better."

 _Another nod._

"I tried to explain," Callie replied, feeling herself get worked up. She hated seeing Stef upset.

"I know you did, Bug. I was just terrified. I had no idea why you'd gone in there—if you had my gun. All I could think of was losing you. Not an excuse by any means, but the truth."

She paused, struggling with her words. "You and Jude have gone through some pretty awful things in your other placements, haven't you? I'm so, so sorry if I reminded you, in _any_ way, of those experiences because of how I punished you. If…if it was the same as what used to happen to you two." The cop drew in a shaky breath, hoping she hadn't gone too far. "That must have been terrible for you to remember all of that."

Callie's expression was rife with confusion. True, at the time, she had been reminded of other foster parents—but she always understood that what had taken place with Stef hadn't even come close to being the same.

Most of them would become angered in a way that almost wanted to make them pay. Outrage was unpredictable and out of control, and would leave them tender for days after. Punishments were doled out, never discussed—and adults never bothered to see if they were okay unless it was to assess the damage in order to cover up any marks. Stef and Lena weren't like that. Even though they'd been mad, both had spent a lot of time talking to her and tried to help her feel better. As if they felt bad for what they had had to do.

Callie became silent as she thought about how often she used to get into trouble for accidents. Recently, though, the way she'd been acting had been anything but unintentional.

"I was pretty horrible…" she confessed, realizing that maybe the spanking she had been given was deserved. Feeling self-conscious by the admission, she hugged the towel tighter around herself.

"Cal, you could never be horrible. Never, baby. Your behaviour was a different story but no matter what, no one deserves to be afraid like that."

Callie straightened. "I've had worse," she declared bravely, setting her jaw. Stef had been mean, but it really hadn't been any worse than the misfortune that resulted whenever she had pushed her Mom a little too much for one day.

"That's not the point, Cal…" Stef stared at her daughter hopelessly, wanting to shake her. "You know that was not your fault, what happened with Jeanine or with anyone else, yes?" she said firmly, letting it drop that she was aware of the truth. There was no more hiding anymore.

"Yeah," the girl agreed before piping up nonchalantly. "Mama would hit us."

There it was again. _Mom—_ ma.

Stef froze, not sure what to make of that statement. "Mom would hit you?" she replied, managing to keep a calm and even tone. Of all the responses she'd been prepared for, this had not been one of them. The kids seemed like they'd been so close with Colleen that she doubted any mistreatment had gone on—but after everything she and Lena had just learned, she couldn't assume anything.

"Yeah. Well, only if we really disobeyed or misbehaved," Callie explained, confused when she noticed the lines on Stef's forehead get only deeper with her attempt to make the woman feel better. She hadn't had many rules growing up with their parents. There were some, like not being allowed to go anywhere without permission. Or needing to ask before opening any second floor windows, because her Mom was worried Jude would fall out. Other than that, she was expected to do as she was told, complete her homework, and be kind with her words.

"Hmm? You and Jude? Misbehave and not listen? I would have never imagined," Stef teased, feigning exaggerated shock to elicit a giggle from her daughter. She was relieved to learn that that had been all it was.

It didn't take long for Callie to recall the times she'd spent crying over her Mom's lap for her escapades. She had more than a few tangible memories on this issue. Once, when she was five, she had a park outing taken away for throwing a toy at Jude. Stubbornly, she'd decided to climb out her window to go to the playground anyway—three blocks away. Another time, the building manager had come in to polish the hardwood in their apartment. More interested in playing than taking a bath when sent upstairs after dinner, Callie had discovered that soapy feet on freshly varnished floors made a great slip-n-slide. By the time she'd realized to abort mission, it was much too late. Cupfuls of water and suds had made it from the tub onto the upstairs hallway and had started pooling down the stairs.

"This one time, Jude and me found a really sturdy cardboard crate with handles. The kind you get groceries delivered in." Callie's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We were playing race cars and I kinda got carried away."

Stef raised an eyebrow, not quite sure she wanted to know what this meant. "How on _earth_ does one get carried away pushing their brother around in a box?"

"Well Jude wanted to go faster so…" She hesitated, cringing as her foster mother waited for her to continue. "I was pushing him off the first landing so he could slide down the stairs. It worked well the first couple times," Callie offered quickly as the woman's eyes widened. "But then we, uhm…had some technical difficulties and the box flipped and…ah—Jude, he did a face plant onto the floor."

"Oh my god! Callie! Was he okay?" Stef exclaimed. She was finding it difficult to keep a straight face with the insulted expression her daughter was wearing: the universal betrayal of an older sibling being asked about their younger counterpart's wellbeing, instead of their's.

Callie rolled her eyes. Why was it always about Jude? The box wouldn't have flipped had Jude sat all the way back like she'd told him to, instead of leaning forward.

"He was fine. He got a pretty good goose egg on his head and chipped a tooth. Mama wasn't too happy about that," Callie said. "She was so mad because she'd already told me not to do what she thought I was gonna do," she added, laughing at her younger self. She clearly remembered insisting she wouldn't, forgetting the warning almost instantly—then regretting it and feeling sorry for herself the moment her Mom told her to wait for her in her room. That statement usually didn't bode well for her.

"Mm- _hm_. Your poor mother. Jude is lucky he didn't break his little neck." The cop wasn't sure how Colleen had managed to stay home with two rambunctious children as a young mom. The mere thought terrified her. "My love, as much as I would've loved to have had you when you were younger, your audacity and… _boisterousness…_ would've nearly killed me." She pointed to her head. "These greys would have come in a decade earlier."

"You okay, baby?" Stef questioned, seeing the girl's chin tremble.

Callie sighed and wiped her eyes. "Yeah. Just remembering," she said shakily.

"You know that's not the same, right? That what you're describing to me is _not_ the same as what happened to you and Jude when you went through all those homes?" Stef asked. She needed to be absolutely sure that there was no ambiguity.

She was not at all prepared for the girl to give her a look of sympathy. As if _she_ was the one who was confused and Callie needed to be patient with.

"I know. She was just trying to remind me to think before I did anything…so I'd make a better choice next time and be better about listening. Not hurt us for real," her daughter replied with stunning maturity.

It had been different. Her Mom always waited until she wasn't angry—only ever using an open hand, never her fist, and never leaving a mark apart from maybe bruising her pride. When it was over, she'd help her clean up and would stay with her until she felt better. The slate would be clear.

Callie never understood why these details were drilled into her—why any of that mattered if it'd hurt anyway. Of course, the difference had become apparent after encountering their foster parents.

"That's what she said. That that's why she had to do something she didn't really like to, because she wanted me to be a good person. Kinda like you and Lena do, I guess," Callie continued before the woman could respond.

Overwhelmed with relief, Stef pulled her daughter into her arms. Because here they'd been—losing sleep over how they would help Callie make wisdom out of her wounds—and she had done it all by herself.

* * *

 **A/N:**

At the risk of oversharing...I'm ashamed to admit that the scene in which Callie is standing in the tub getting her feet scrubbed is a true narrative. I don't really have a good reason for why I didn't like showering, but I do remember avoiding and fighting over it. As in the story, showers were battles that I'd eventually lose...every couple weeks I'd be cornered into the bathroom and get my ankles, knees, and neck cleaned. It sucked, and it repeated until something clicked and I got into the habit of bathing properly.

Next up: therapy (and possibly some drama)


	36. A Disturbance of the Peace

Glad to hear a few of you got a laugh out of my shower ordeals when I was younger-and that I wasn't the only one!

Apologies for the delay in getting these next chapters out. This was a monster to write, as it always is when many characters are involved. Hopefully I captured the right dynamic in depicting the family's challenges without it being too disorganized. Huge thanks to theypreferthetermpeople for helping to smooth out some of the rough patches, and to everyone else for keeping my ideas rolling! Jude is being brought in and I'm excited to develop his character more.

A heads up that I'm making a concerted effort to wind this story down. I can see it coming to a natural endpoint where it can be brought home. ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 34:** A Disturbance of the Peace

Lena massaged the back of her neck as they stopped at the four way intersection. Tension in their household that morning had been at an all time high and at one point, it looked as though they wouldn't make it past their door.

All the kids had been unsettled by the shift to their Saturday morning routine. Wanting to be able to take their time with Callie and Jude after the appointment without needing to rush home, she had arranged for Sharon to stay with the rest of the children. However, they were unhappy at being "babysat," as they had put it, instead of being able to stay home alone. Probably because they couldn't get up to whatever they wanted to. Still, they had spent an obscene amount of time watching TV while Sharon figured out how to drum up endless breakfast for three hungry bodies.

And Callie and Jude? Anxious and upset enough at being made to see Dr. Wiseman, both had woken up with stomachaches that'd kept them from having more than a few bites of breakfast. They had then proceeded to drag their feet so much so that, by the end of it, she and Stef had stood in their respective rooms to make sure they were getting dressed. Even incentivizing it with time at the park or lunch at a pasta joint—just the four of them—wouldn't sway them. Running out of options, they'd ended up lying about the appointment time, which she hadn't felt particularly good about. Then of course, at the very last minute, Callie and Jude said that they wanted to eat. She and Stef suspected it was another stalling technique but by then it didn't matter because they'd run out of time. As a result, they were dealing with two very tired, hungry, and grumpy kids.

"I'm hungry," Jude grizzled.

"Well, young man, this is why we eat when it's time to eat," Stef reminded. "Why don't you have your oat bar that Mama packed?" There was a full ziploc of snacks back there; surely he could find something to pique his interest.

She heard the rustle of plastic as hands rummaged through the stash.

"But I wanted the hot breakfast—" the boy pointed out, a whine creeping into his voice. He stopped when Callie hit him on the arm. "Never mind…"

Beside her, Lena heard her wife draw in a long breath and let it out. "I'm sure Grandma will save you some," she reassured, trying to intervene for the sake of both Stef and the kids. She fished her phone out from her bag to remind Sharon to do just that.

"Okay," Jude responded dejectedly before his attention quickly shifted towards candy.

"Callie?" he whispered. He reached across the middle seat to tap his sister on the arm for the umpteenth time that car ride. " _Callie!_ Do you think she'll have suckers?"

"How would _I know_?!" the girl exploded, pulling away in disgust. "Stop poking _me_!" she complained, her voice also climbing.

Stef gripped the steering wheel tighter in an attempt to calm herself. Something about whining was always so effective at grating her nerves. "Settle down please." Jude had carried on incessantly from the backseat since they'd set out and Callie, who was normally quite patient with him, had become less and less tolerant.

The two of them went silent for awhile, Jude taking in his sister's reaction before piping up again. "Is she a real doctor? Because real doctors usually have candy."

"I _said_ , I _don't_ — _know_!" the girl snapped. "It doesn't matter whether she does or doesn't!"

"Callie…" the cop said in warning tone as Lena patted her reassuringly on the forearm. She'd been holding her tongue the whole time but she did not want her daughter's mood to land her in trouble. This was certainly not something to argue about and she could tell by the crabby tone in Callie's voice that she was close to tears. "If you two cannot stop, I will pull over and separate you two."

"Can I sit in the—" Jude began hopefully.

"Absolutely not. You are not quite tall enough to sit in the front seat yet," Stef informed before Callie interrupted.

"You're not allowed to have candy, anyway, _Jude_. It's bad for your teeth," Callie said in a bossy tone, ignoring the directive from her foster mother. "And even if you were, you can't have it in the car because if we get in an accident it could off the little stick and you'd choke and die."

From the rearview mirror, Stef saw her son's eyes widen before they welled up with tears.

"Callie. It's time to stop. That is not appropriate," Lena interjected.

"How is it not appropriate?" the girl sassed. Realizing what she had said, she muttered a halfhearted sorry. She hadn't meant to make Jude cry.

Lena exchanged a weary glance with her wife as they heard the boy hiccup back a sob. "It's not up to you whether Jude can have something or not," she scolded gently, though she wasn't sure if Callie had heard her. Wanting to disengage, her daughter now had her head resting on her forearm and was leaning out the open window.

When they finally arrived, with five minutes to spare, both women felt frazzled. It wasn't even nine thirty yet but they were exhausted enough that they wondered how they'd make it through the rest of the day.

Although there were no plans to attempt individual counselling with either child until rapport had developed with Dr. Wiseman, a lot was riding on this appointment. After last week, Stef felt the pressure to give Callie a positive experience—but her own hangup about therapy wasn't helping. While she would never hesitate to do anything that was in the best interests of any of her children, the thought of family sessions was intimidating. Over the years, she'd had her own share of critical incident debriefing with the police psychologist. None had ever involved Lena, though.

She was well aware that her perceptive children were likely picking up on her own worries, which in turn were influencing their behaviour. They had continued to argue, though Callie had toned it down enough to avoid further reprimand. It turned out that driving there had only been half the ordeal, though. When it was time to get out, Jude insisted that he needed Brandon's Nintendo DS which they had reluctantly allowed him take into the car as a bribe. Callie didn't want to leave behind her sketchpad and was upset that she couldn't find an extra pencil because the one she had wasn't sharp anymore. And although both had been given ample warning to put away those things, neither had started until they'd parked.

The cop leaned her head against the elevator. Five kids were going to be the end of her, she just knew it. She wouldn't have it any other way, of course, but the recognition that she and Lena were now more than doubly outnumbered was a little more than frightening.

* * *

"Hi. Lena," Dr. Wiseman said, extending her hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you." She bent to be able to make eye contact with the boy standing next to her. "And you must be Jude."

Lena smiled as her son, who had his sticky palm in her's, stepped even closer towards her and burrowed his head into her side. He glanced up at her, wearing an expression akin to prey being dragged into a lion's den.

"Hi," he said politely when Lena gave him a look that told him he was expected to respond. This other lady seemed like she could be nice enough but he had enough experience by now to know better than to trust first impressions.

"Stef, Callie. It's nice to see you again."

"Hi," Callie mumbled shyly from where she stood slightly behind the cop. Feeling self-conscious at their last interaction and knowing that Dr. Wiseman was probably aware that she'd run away, she really hadn't wanted to see her again.

* * *

She was surprised to learn that things were slightly different from last time. They still did more activities that she would've preferred. However, the focus was not only on her and Jude but on all four of them, and it was funny to see her foster mothers stumble over their answers. After a short game, each of them were asked to share the highs and lows of the past week.

The highlight of Jude's week had been discovering an abandoned bicycle in the alley one evening. Lena had been hesitant about letting him take it home—the seat was ripped, it was rusting, and the handlebar was loose—but finally caved at his persistence. He was not to ride it until Stef and Lena could get him a helmet but Jude said he didn't mind. Callie could understand that; it was _his_ and they hadn't had many things they could call their own. Predictably, his low point had been the loss of his video games for hiding his work.

When it was her turn, Callie clammed up. So much had gone wrong that recalling the lows was easy; the worst had definitely been learning that Stef regretted her, but she didn't want to get into details. Not with Jude there.

"I didn't like Bill coming over," she said, hoping that'd be good enough. She omitted what she really wanted to say. _Because of me._

"Just getting into trouble and disappointing everyone, I guess. Uhm…I liked getting to go back to school…" She smiled sheepishly at Lena who raised an eyebrow at hearing that part of her answer. "And yesterday. I got to skip and me and Stef had a picnic at the park. Oh! And getting to listen to some old tapes, with my Mom's voice on it," she added, forgetting that Jude didn't know.

"Sorry, I was gonna tell you. Really," she said quietly. His confused expression turned to one of hurt before he looked away, refusing to acknowledge her apology. He was mad.

Like their daughter, Stef and Lena weren't comfortable with being completely honest about the biggest stressors on their minds. Those comprised of Callie's legal issues, learning the full extent of the abuse the siblings had gone through, and the ongoing challenges with nightmares and establishing good hygiene. But by far, the most difficult—for the both of them—had been when Callie had gotten into the safe and how Stef had handled the discipline for it. They weren't at all surprised that Callie hadn't brought it up but wished they could speak openly about it so that their daughter could get the support she deserved—and so they could get feedback on moving forward.

However, because neither were comfortable with the risk of losing Callie or Jude over this, Lena shared that her biggest challenge had been getting burnt out with work. Zapped for energy well before she came home, she hadn't been communicating well, which had contributed to arguments with the children and Stef.

"Bill's visit was stressful," she said, empathizing with Callie. "But it wasn't all bad, was it? It gave me my favourite part of the week—getting an official adoption date," she said as tears pricked her eyes.

Callie looked away, not quite sure how she felt about the adoption anymore as Lena shared her other highlights. _Sorting through everyone's closets to figure out what items no longer fit and what could be donated or saved for hand-me-downs._ Watching Wall-E during family film night was another, and she couldn't help the intrusive thought that maybe that had been a high point since that was something she'd chosen not to participate in. That maybe, Lena, too, wasn't so sure of her either.

"Finally getting Adoption Day solidified was pretty special. It can't come soon enough," Stef agreed, clearing her throat so she wouldn't start to cry. She winked at Callie, perplexed at the girl's sad expression when it'd first been mentioned. "I also liked our picnic very much and hope we get to do more of that, although maybe at a time when you're not supposed to be in class. And learning to communicate better with my wife," she said as she turned towards Lena.

She paused, trying to figure out how she'd answer the second part of the exercise. What could she say? That her daughter had scared her half to death by putting herself in danger? That to return the favour, she had taught her to be afraid of her, too?

"There were some tough times…" the cop admitted, deciding to keep it general. "I've been working most nights when the kids are in bed, which isn't healthy. It seems like right now I don't have enough time with my family and that never feels good. We fought a great deal," she said slowly. "And that's hard because so much of my job involves crisis, negotiating, and fighting. I can't really catch a break."

"But I don't ever resent the difficult times," Stef continued, making eye contact with Lena. "Because there's always something that can be learned from them. Yes, we argued a lot this week—we got mad and resentful that we couldn't make each other see things our way—but we ended up with a better understanding of each other. I also don't like feeling as though I'm always having to be the mean parent—but it meant that when Lena and I finally got a chance to switch, I was all the more grateful for it." She grinned as Lena laughed, understanding her reference to the morning both kids had landed in her office. "It wasn't intentional. But I have to say, I really appreciated that break from my normal role."

Dr. Wiseman nodded at the opportunity to carry their discussion further with Stef's reflection. "That's a wonderful observation, one that maybe we can all take some time to think about. It's easy to write off an experience that isn't fully positive as bad. Something to avoid from happening again. But like Stef mentioned, they often give us a different perspective."

"I'm going to ask a series of questions now that are just for you to answer for yourself. When you think about the lows you described, were you able to take away at least one valuable lesson from each?" she inquired as each member of the family slowly nodded their agreement. "Was someone there to support you? If so, who was that person? Was that new, and how did it make you feel? Could they have done something differently that would've made their support even better?" She paused, letting the questions settle. "If you didn't have anyone…who could you have gone to?"

"For the highlights—was someone there with you to share in the success? Who was it, and how did their presence change the experience? If you didn't have anyone, what would it have meant to you, to have someone there?

This part of the activity was intended for Jude and Callie. The main thing she was trying to do was to guide them to look to the women as sources of support they could rely on. In the long run, this would cultivate attachment with Stef and Lena, and help them transition from a fostering to an adoptive relationship—which usually came with challenges that were overlooked. More importantly, she hoped to encourage the development of a more typical sibling relationship between the children. One grounded on healthy separation that allowed the space for them to reach socioemotional milestones.

"It's alright if you didn't have an answer for each of these questions," the psychologist reiterated at seeing Jude's concern. "What's important is that you thought of them."

She left the table and went to the cabinet, returning with markers and a brand new pack of bright, multicoloured flashcards.

"I like that exercise because it gets us to think about how things went, and how we might do things differently to change the outcome if we had an opportunity to do so. Reflection is just as important as looking ahead because it helps us shape our plans."

Tearing the plastic wrapper, she removed three of the colours and placed them into separate stacks on the table. "Because that's actually the fun part. So, for the rest of our time together today, we're going to practice making goals and talking about them."

Lena couldn't help her amusement as she watched her children, neither of whom were listening. Jude wore a glazed expression on his face and was on his third yawn; Callie was progressively sliding down in her chair. She leaned to the side, towards her daughter, so as to have a quiet word. "Hey. Sit up, please."

"Callie. Why might setting goals be important?" Dr. Wiseman asked. She had overheard their exchange and wanted to capture her attention again.

"Because you can keep track of what you're working on?" the girl tried, stammering at being put on the spot.

"What about you, Jude?"

The boy scrunched his face. "'Cause maybe it helps you remember what you're supposed to be doing?"

"Great answers, you two! Having goals help us keep the future in mind and plan out what we need to do to get there," she explained, upping her enthusiasm in response to the children's boredom. "Okay! Pick your colours!" She smiled encouragingly as Callie cautiously picked the orange cards while Jude went for the green.

"Remember, we're only doing the first step right now," the woman said, pulling the markers toward the family. "You're imagining all the things you want—it could be a specific item or something you would like to do. Write one on each card. I want you to think of it as, if nothing could stand in the way, what is it that you'd want?"

"There are a few ground rules. The most important one is to be respectful of each other's ideas—I don't want to see any discouraging. This isn't about debating what is or isn't a goal, but to hear what everyone is looking forward to so you can work together as a family to support them in getting there. Agreed?" she asked, satisfied when the kids nodded dutifully. Secondly: no goal is too big or too small. _But,_ I'm challenging you to keep them as manageable and action-oriented as possible because it'll be easier to plan later on. For example, _getting a job_ is more manageable to make plans for than, _being nice._ Last but not least: you two can talk about your ideas and have the same goals, but they must be written on cards of your own colour."

As she listened to the explanation, Lena understood the clinical reasoning behind the seemingly simplistic exercise. Adopting Jesus and Mariana had taught her that children used to chaotic situations kept very short-term mindsets. Because footing was typically on soft ground that could give way at any moment, the focus was usually tied to meeting immediate needs and getting through the day. This was a huge part of why Callie and Jude both had trouble adjusting their behavior; even if they were made of procedures and consequences beforehand, impulsivity eventually won. Therefore, expecting them to think months ahead was nearly impossible. Which would be fine, of course, if encouraging them to process the upcoming adoption didn't require thinking into the future.

Divvying up the remaining stack, Dr. Wiseman shifted her focus to Stef and Lena. "Your roles are going to be slightly different," she began. Every time she facilitated this exercise, she had parents share the same colour to represent that they were on the same team.

"You will be identifying the goals that you would like to see Jude and Callie work towards. You'll also keep track of as many major events—milestones, essentially—in the short- and long-term that you foresee. Birthdays; entering high school and graduation; learning to drive. Finishing probation and getting adopted count as well. Milestones are easy to overlook as goals because they happen naturally and to some extent, are beyond our control," the woman explained. "But they take just as much of our time and effort."

She smiled as she caught Callie give her the side-eye. Usually, this part of the activity lead to conflict between children and their adoptive parents. She fully expected it in this situation, since the kids were used to doing things on their own without much in the way of parental guidance. Plus, Callie had previously alluded to feeling like Stef didn't have the right to give her direction.

However, the collision of goals—in between siblings as well as against parents' rules and wishes—was healthy. It allowed effective ways to communicate disagreement to be modelled. The ultimate head fake was that children could slowly learn that disapproval did not equate loss of love and support.

Conflict was a necessity for growth.

* * *

Every so often, Stef and Lena would steal a glance at their kids as they worked away. They still looked bored but less so now that Gisella had stopped talking. Callie had her head against her arm, nestled in the crook of her elbow as she filled out her cards. Apart from the occasional interruption from Jude asking her to spell a word and her stopping to oblige, they didn't speak and there was little doubt that they were being thoughtful about the activity.

Hearing Callie's stomach squeal, Lena rummaged through her handbag for the snack bag from the car. The kids, seeing her take out the cut up fruit and nut butter she had packed, perked up immediately.

"Jude. Why don't you begin by reading out some of the goals you came up with that you don't mind sharing with us?" Dr. Wiseman suggested.

A born educator, Lena beamed as her son sat up straight and cleared his throat. She could see that he was bursting. That this was quite possibly one of the few times anyone had asked what he wanted to do and he couldn't wait to talk about it.

"I couldn't think of too many," Jude cautioned, his confidence faltering.

"That's alright. Today is only the start. You'll have plenty of opportunities to add new goals at later sessions," Dr. Wiseman reassured. "Even once we start planning for some of them, doesn't mean you'll need to stop thinking of things you want to do. Make sense?"

Jude nodded. That took the pressure off sharing. "Uhm, okay," he said as he gathered his cards together to go through one-by-one. "I want to walk to my friend's house by myself…I'm not allowed right now. Go hiking in the forest. Go to a movie together. Just us, if that's okay, because I can't hear or see whenever we watch at home because there's too many people and by the time the popcorn comes around there's just the kernels," he complained. "Go to the beach, and the waterpark that's close by. I want to get a library card so I can take out books. Have a real birthday party one year…go to the zoo or the aquarium, because I like animals," Jude added poignantly.

He hesitated when he saw what he'd written on the next one, knowing Callie wouldn't be happy. "See my Dad," he said quietly. Nervous, he avoided looking her way.

Stef and Lena exchanged a worried glance. They had always known that it was only a matter of time before this would come up but hadn't quite finessed the language around explaining the logistics of how that would look—or, if it'd happen at all.

The boy's hands shook as he finished off his pile. "Have my own DS because Jesus and Brandon always hog it." He grinned, basking in the attention as everyone in the room laughed. "Oh!" he exclaimed at seeing the last one. "I want to learn to ride my bike!"

His enthusiasm left him quickly as the laughter from his foster moms died off. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, deflated. _Perhaps, he had asked for too much_ , he couldn't help thinking.

" _No, no_. You did not say anything wrong," Lena comforted, although aware that the waver in her voice directly was in direct contradiction to what she was saying. Through tears, she smiled at her son who was staring at her—his face filled with concern and doubt. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, she brought him into her side and kissed him on the cheek. "You did so well, Bud. I'm proud of you."

"Okay," Jude replied, troubled by the thought that Lena wasn't being truthful. Remembering that Dr. Wiseman was still there, he fidgeted out of her hold.

From across the table, Stef gave her wife a sympathetic glance. She knew exactly what this was about, because she felt the same sadness. Both of them had indelible memories of the very first time Brandon, Mariana, and Jesus learned to ride their bikes—a moment that would be built up for weeks as the training wheels came off. It hadn't even occurred to her that Jude had missed out on the cherished childhood experience—one that most parents touted as a developmental milestone.

"What would it mean for you to be able to ride your bicycle, Jude?" Dr. Wiseman asked. For now, she wanted to keep pushing them to articulate their needs and wants.

"If I could ride by bike then maybe I could ride to my friends' and explore the trails in the park."

"That's a great idea, Jude. Thank you for sharing. I like that you kept your goals very specific," Dr. Wiseman said. She could tell how excited he was. "Let's give your sister a turn, shall we? Callie, would you mind sharing some of the ideas you came up with?"

"Okay…" the girl stammered. Her cheeks burned. Although it was just Jude, Stef, and Lena, she didn't like speaking in front of groups—and especially not in front of strangers. Hands shaking, she reached for her cards, which she'd placed face down so no one would see. "I…I want to learn to ride a bike, too," she said shyly. "I hope I can find one that's the right size, like Jude did," she added before putting it aside. "Tide-pooling, because I like nature. Learn to swim. Go camping," she continued as her courage picked up. "Get my cartilage done, right here," she said, pointing to her pinna. "Build a tabletop easel with instructions I found online. Get my social security when I'm old enough so I can work and save up to move out and buy art supplies," Callie said, suddenly sounding very grown up. Until, that is, she reached the last one. "Go to the fair when it comes to town for the summer…" she said quietly, looking down.

"Those are all very good goals to have. Thank you," the woman praised. She wanted to provide Callie with lots of positive reinforcement since she was the more guarded of the two siblings. "What's your favourite ride at the fair?"

Callie brightened at thinking about all of the ones she liked. "The rollercoaster, and the log flume. There's this one ride…I don't know if they have it anymore, but you sit in a hamster cage thing with a few others. It starts to roll as it goes around a track—"

"—so you end up somersaulting faster as the ride speeds up. That one?" the psychologist asked, laughing at the incredulous look the girl gave her. "I do know a thing or two about the Rok n Roll, Callie."

"Oh my gosh, that sounds stomach churning. Mom will be more than happy to take you," Lena quickly offered.

Stef paled. " _What_?! Why am I always the one who gets volun _told_? Don't I get a say in this?" the cop balked as her family laughed at her.

"And what about camping? What is it about it that you look forward to?" the Psychologist asked once the laughter died down. Having managed to break the ice with Callie, she hoped to make some inroads while she had the chance.

"Mmm—that it's totally different from daytime. I just think it'd be cool to be outside at night, when it's dark and quiet. Like you're up when everyone's asleep. And then, if it's clear, you can see the stars and try to figure out the constellations," Callie described, remembering the stories her Mom would share from going camping with her friends before she had her. "It doesn't have to be at a campground or anything," she added quickly. She figured that if she reeled it in enough, there'd be a higher likelihood it could happen. "I can pitch a tent in the backyard…if that's allowed," she said , making fleeting eye contact with her foster mothers.

"Well, Mama and I would have to discuss it…" Stef began slowly. "It probably wouldn't happen on a school night, but I don't see why we couldn't do it on a Friday or Saturday." Her daughter had no idea of the camping supplies in the garage and she could not wait to surprise her. Callie asking for wants was so rare that she was motivated to make it happen.

As the smile crept across the girl's face, she understood that, for Callie, the thought of her ideas falling into the realm of possibility was an entirely new concept. "It could be just us, if you'd like," the cop assured. She wanted to make it clear that she and Lena had no expectations that this needed to be shared with the rest of the family—unless, of course, that was what Callie wanted.

"Sounds like we all know which goal Callie will be choosing to get started with," Dr. Wiseman commented.

Mindful of the time, she began to look through the cards the women had filled out. She had to move on to the one thing she wanted Jude and Callie to start thinking about.

"Stef and Lena wrote this down as a milestone for both of you," she said, pulling two cards to the center of the table. _Callie's Adoption._ _Jude's Adoption._ "Is this something you think about?" The children nodded enthusiastically before she could finish her sentence.

Dr. Wiseman chuckled; it wasn't very often she got to see older children go through adoption, and Callie and Jude's happiness was contagious. "I can certainly understand why, you two. It's a big deal."

"I wanted to ask you, have you ever thought about what it means to be adopted?" she inquired. "How it's different from being fostered?"

"Well, you don't move around so much anymore, so we can live in one place," Jude replied right away.

"Adoption is the endgame," Callie piped up, using the same language as Bill would when he explained it to them. Over the years, that was one of the few things that had never changed. "Getting fostered is supposed to be a bridge to get us there."

"That's a great way to look at it. Foster care is a temporary arrangement but adoption is permanent. Once you're adopted, it cannot be reversed," Dr. Wiseman elaborated. Technically speaking, there were ways, but she was fairly confident in this case that it wasn't an avenue that would be considered. Stef and Lena had followed through with successful adoption in the past, and the surviving biological parent no longer had rights to Callie and Jude.

"Another way to think about it is by parental rights," the woman said carefully. Explaining the legal side of things was never easy but these conversations were important to establish a foundation for later questions which inevitably came up. "Foster parents work very closely with the state to take care of you. The state makes big picture decisions like where you live, medical care you need, and your education. That's where Bill comes in. He helps make the plan and checks to see that it's running as smoothly as it can be. Caregivers—so, Stef and Lena—are responsible for making it happen. They're in charge of everyday things like feeding you healthy meals, clothing you, getting you to school. Making sure you have the things you need to keep you safe, happy, and healthy. Based on what they learn about you, they're able to advocate for what they think you need for your wellbeing. But anything that impacts those big picture categories must be cleared with Bill. You can think of it as Bill sharing parental rights with your foster parents."

" _So, right now…_ if Stef and Lena wanted to take you to a campground out of state, they would need to run that by Bill," Dr. Wiseman said, hoping that a tangible example would help illustrate her point. "They need permission. Same goes for field trips."

" _Really_?" Callie said. She had had no idea. "So even though Bill doesn't know us as well as Stef and Lena, who we see every day, he gets the final say?" she asked incredulously.

"That's right. Some agencies also have rules on what holidays can and cannot be celebrated, or if you're allowed to get a haircut."

"But that's not fair."

"It doesn't seem very fair, does it?" the woman empathized. "Once you're adopted, though, the state no longer oversees the relationship. Adoptive parents can make all the big picture decisions on your behalf because they have the same rights. As if they were your biological parents." She kept it factual. Unemotional. "How do you feel about that?"

Callie frowned. "It's good, I guess." She and Jude had known Bill for a long time, but she didn't like that things had to go by him so was happy that it'd come to an end. And she definitely looked forward to having a place to stay for awhile without worrying about being moved.

But still…it was weird. How could Stef and Lena have rights like their biological parents when they weren't?

"What about you, Jude?" Dr. Wiseman asked. "What do you think about all of this?"

"I don't want to cut my hair…" he whined, remembering how he and the other boys would be made to line up to get their heads shaved whenever someone managed to get head lice. Judging by how fast the parents would act, he was pretty sure that they hadn't asked Bill.

"We know, Jude," Stef and Lena chorused. Their youngest had made that clear from the start and they had never imagined pushing the issue. As long as he showed he could keep it clean or let them help him, he could keep it the way he wanted.

Callie rolled her eyes. _That was not the point._ "No. About being adopted, Jude."

"It's awesome!" he replied cheerfully, this time complying with the question. "'Cause now we can stay with Stef and Lena until Dad's out of jail and we can go live with him again."


	37. Mourning an Unexpected Loss

Welcome new readers! Always cool to have a few more on board. This chapter: therapy isn't everyone's cup of tea but writing this totally helped my clinical reasoning. Thank you to **theypreferthetermpeople** for the help in shaping the language around adoption's permanency.

Jude will remain a secondary character. I'm just really enjoying playing around with his character and developing him a little more; he's been consistently one dimensional in the story and deserves some depth. Being younger and under Callie's watch (as much as an 8-12 year old can manage, anyway), it's easy to assume he wasn't as affected by their experiences in care. However, I don't think that's necessarily true and it's worth delving into some of his issues—which have been alluded to in an earlier chapter. That being said, the focus will remain on Callie (e.g. how his experiences impact her).

As always, thank you for the support. Will try my best to get another chapter posted before the New Year! ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 35:** Mourning an Unexpected Loss

 _Callie rolled her eyes. That was not the point. "No. About being adopted, Jude."_

 _"It's awesome," he said cheerfully, this time complying with the question. "'Cause now we can stay with Stef and Lena until Dad's out of jail and we can go live with him again."_

Picking up on the sudden, uneasy hush that fell over the room, Callie elbowed him. Hard _._ He had said something wrong.

"Ow!" he grizzled, annoyed. Callie had been on him all day. "What was that for?"

"Callie. Please don't hit your brother," Stef reproved sadly. She was filled with guilt at learning about the boy's hope at reunification with his father. While she and Lena had consistently reminded him and Callie that they'd be adopted, it hadn't crossed their mind that Jude thought it would only be for the duration of Donald's incarceration.

" _What_?" the boy demanded when his sister shook her head.

When Callie finally managed to find her words, her tone was one of pity. "Jude…" she breathed. "Dad can't take care of us…he's in jail. We talked about this."

She felt bad for knowing the truth about how permanent the adoption would be—that it'd essentially mean severing the remaining tie with a biological parent—when Jude apparently thought otherwise. But she was also angry with him for even wanting that in the first place. Their Dad was the entire reason they had gotten into this mess. It was why they didn't have their Mom anymore.

"I know! I _know_ that!" he snapped, his emotions getting the better of him. Things felt so off all of a sudden and he couldn't understand why. "I know he can't now but why can't he when he's out?"

Lena exchanged an uneasy look with Stef before looking to Dr. Wiseman, at a loss as to how they'd address his confusion. She had not expected this to come up and had no idea how they'd explain this in a way that reconciled honesty with sensitivity. Jude had the advantage of being old enough that he had the capacity to be engaged in open dialogue about the situation. However, his age also meant that if they botched their explanation, he would remember. There was no counting on him letting it go—not in the way Jesus and Mariana had when they talked about why living with Ana was not an option anymore.

Turning in her chair to face the young boy, she reached for his hand. "Come here, Bubba…come here…" she said sympathetically. His denial and confusion hurt her heart, and she wanted to do everything she could to let him know that he was not alone with it.

"NO! _NO!"_ he all but screamed as he pulled away. Everyone was in on a secret that he hadn't yet caught onto, and whatever it was, he had a feeling he wouldn't like it.

He gave a defeated kick at the carpet before deciding he needed her after all and allowed Lena to bring him into her arms this time.

" _Jude_ …" Lena soothed as she helped him settle into her lap. He held onto her tight, hiding in her big hair as he started to sob. Probably embarrassed at his outburst in front of Dr. Wiseman, who was essentially a stranger to him. "Thanks," she said as the psychologist handed her the Kleenex.

Dr. Wiseman waited patiently until the boy emerged enough so that Lena could wipe his nose. "It's like Callie explained," she began. "Your Dad isn't able to take care of you two from where he is right now. But you had a very good question because you're right, he is going to be out once he's finished with his term." She smiled encouragingly at both women; she always preferred that parents led difficult discussions in order to facilitate the development and transfer of attachment.

"Honey…remember how we talked about parental rights?" Lena began quietly, rubbing his arm as if that could soften the blow. As a parent, her first instinct was to protect her children. Even if for their own good, forcing them to endure anything was not easy.

"Okay," she said, feeling her son nod. She swallowed, nervous that she would mess this up.

"For children to get adopted, their biological parents cannot have parental rights to them anymore."

She was laying down the path, brick by brick—one that he could take so that he could arrive at the same conclusion on his own.

"This is what happened with your Dad. To allow Mom and I to adopt you two, so that we can make decisions on your behalf and take care of you both, he needed to give up his rights."

"He doesn't want us anymore?" Jude asked in a small voice.

Her heart breaking at the question, Stef left her chair and crouched down by Lena's side. She held the boy's small hand in her's, turning it upward so she could rub his chubby palm.

"No…no, Bud. It's not like that…he wanted you and Callie very much. I promise you that," she said hoarsely as she glanced at Callie. Their daughter needed to hear this, too. "But more than that, your Dad wanted so much more _for_ you. He's not able to take care of you two from where he is right now, so he did what he thought was best to make sure that the both of you are being taken care of. He loves you—so, so much," she assured, not wanting either of her children to conclude that they were at fault.

"It doesn't mean that he isn't your Dad anymore, though. He'll always be your Dad. Does that make sense?" she asked as a way to reassure him. Her son, who had his head against Lena's chest, sniffled loudly before nodding at her.

"But how come not when he's out? Why can't we live with him after?" Jude persisted. No one had answered his question yet but their silence was telling.

Stef gave him a tearful smile. Her heart was breaking at his desperation. _There was no easy way of getting around this, was there?_

"Because once you give up your parental rights, that can't be undone," she said, holding her breath as she gauged Jude's reaction. "They can't be reinstated like that."

"That's what makes adoption permanent," Lena added when he didn't respond. She could sense that he was reaching his limit and was working on compartmentalizing the information—so that he could close the door on something he wasn't yet able and ready to process.

"Oh. So we can't live with him," Jude concluded. This time, his tone was one of utter resignation.

"No…" Lena replied quietly, almost afraid to confirm it for him. "I'm so sorry."

Feeling a large shudder shake his body, she kissed his hair. There was a pause. Then, he asked, "will we see him again?"

She gave Stef a weary look. Luckily, this was something they had discussed in private so that they wouldn't be caught entirely off guard.

"Mama and I are willing to have your Dad be a part of our lives—as much as you and Callie _want_ him to be, and as much as he is _able_ to," Stef replied, knowing that her wife wasn't confident addressing this part. "It is many, many years away, though, so we're not sure what that's going to look like."

It was best to be honest. Yes, Donald had requested to see the kids when they were older and expressed interest in maintaining contact with them. However, she and Lena were not prepared to make any promises at this point in time. Prison changed people—irrevocably so—and the cop was well aware that motivations now could be very different years down the road. They couldn't get Callie and Jude's hopes up and build it up to something that might not happen.

Nor did they think it was appropriate that they share this level of detail with the siblings. She found herself holding her breath again, hoping that her answer would suffice and that Jude would accept this for now.

Relief washed over her when he shrugged.

"Okay."

* * *

Callie found herself becoming more and more upset as she watched the exchange between her little brother, and Stef and Lena. "Why do you want to see _Dad_?" she finally blurted out, puzzled by his curiosity. "Because…I don't."

"You don't have to see him, love," Stef quickly empathized, seeing exactly where this was headed. She was beginning to panic—Callie was facing a second appointment in a row that had the possibility of ending negatively.

Dr. Wiseman was prepared to take over. "If and when the time comes, you do not have to see your Dad if you do not want to," she reassured. "But if Jude would like to, you could support him even though it might not be something you want or agree with. How does that sound?"

"What? No…" Callie said, incredulous. "No way. I can't do that," she said boldly, knowing very well she was antagonizing Jude now.

"How come?" the clinician challenged. She could understand why, at their age, Jude and Callie might be troubled by the idea of supporting each other independent of their own goals. It was a tough, but necessary lesson to learn.

"All of us agreed to be to be respectful of each others' wants," she reminded, referring to the ground rules she had covered at the start of the activity. "It's fine not to share them or to disagree, but being supportive is the right thing to do."

"But…this—this is _different_!" Callie balked. Deciding she didn't want to listen to this woman anymore, she crossed her arms and stared at her brother. How could she support something she didn't agree with?

"Cal _._ Sweetness. Why don't we go sit down over there, together?" Stef tried, hoping some distance might help. Guessing from the defiant glint in the girl's eyes, a fight was brewing. And although she was happy to see the earliest signs of a healthier relationship between the siblings, she wanted to redirect things before it got to the point where Callie said something she'd regret later on.

" _No_!" Callie protested when she saw the cop begin to get up from where she was crouched by Lena and Jude. No one was listening to her, yet they were going to stop her.

"He killed our Mom, _Jude_!" Horrified by hearing the truth out loud, her words dropped to a hush. That he wanted to see their Dad after what he'd done felt like a betrayal.

The knot in her stomach tightened as she recognized the slight hint of disappointment in both Stef and Lena's faces. She didn't understand how they could think she was wrong about this.

"Alright! Time out!" Dr. Wiseman interrupted, raising her voice for the first time. As much as this argument was needed as an opportunity for the children to be honest with each other, she had her limits with how far she was willing to let it go. She didn't want everything to be unearthed at once and risk having Jude and Callie leave the session with unresolved feelings.

Unfortunately, neither of them were finished.

Jude struggled to free himself from his foster mother's arms. "HE DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE!" he shouted through tears.

"—IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Callie screamed back at him. "Intentions DON'T MATTER, because you still end up with the same thing! It doesn't MATTER that Dad didn't mean it, because MOM'S—STILL— _DEAD_!" She was crying hard enough now that she could barely speak.

"Well YOU always say _YOU_ don't mean to do bad stuff but you _do_ anyways and we always forgive you even though we're all mad at you and you don't deserve it!" Jude shot back, batting away Lena's hand when she brought her index finger up to his lips. He'd learned quickly that it was her quiet way of telling him to stop whatever he was saying, but he couldn't let Callie have the last word. Not this time.

Opening her mouth with every intention of coming up with a retort, it dawned on Callie that her brother was right. All this time she'd been mad with her Dad when, in fact, she was just like him.

All of a sudden, she felt very small. She shook her head at Stef, who was now rushing towards her. "N—no. I don't w—want a hug f—from y—y—you!" she blubbered. "I—I'm not g—going with y—you!

"Sorry, Callie," the boy whispered, filled with remorse for the grief that had replaced his sister's anger. He bit his lip, wondering if they could get in trouble for yelling.

Not knowing what to say, Callie let her gaze fall to the floor. She shrugged before deciding that she couldn't stay there and sidestepped past the cop to walk out of the room.

It wasn't until the door began to close that Jude's fear of being left alone kicked in. "Come back! Callie! _CALLIE_!" he shouted after her. His panic mounting at the thought he might lose his sister, his cries intensified into a scream as he willed her to turn around. "CALLIE! DON'T LEAVE ME! COME BACK! _COME BACK! COME BACK!"_

"Oh no you don't, young man," Lena said gently, holding onto her son tightly as she waited for the tantrum to subside. Jude was trying to get off of her lap and his frustration was only increasing when his efforts proved futile.

"You need to let your sister go…Mom's going with her. Callie will be okay—she's not leaving you," Lena told him as Stef left to follow their daughter out into the hallway. His distress was painful. "You need to stay here with me."

"That's enough now. No more screaming."

She kept her voice just above a murmur and spoke into his ear—a tried and true method of calming him down. "You're with me…"

* * *

"That was intense," Lena said, her voice wavering. She took a deep breath as she dabbed at her eyes; witnessing her children's grief had been much harder than she had expected. "I'm sorry," she apologized, grabbing another tissue.

"For what?" Dr. Wiseman inquired.

Lena laughed drily. "I'm not sure. Their behaviour, for one," she said in mock annoyance. Now that the adrenaline from intervening with Callie and Jude had wore off, she was absolutely spent. All she could think of right now was how tough the session had been on all of them.

Much to her relief, Stef had managed to convince Callie to come back into the office. The siblings had apologized to each other and the ground rules were repeated; however, both seemed distracted and were no longer participating to the extent they had been before. As a change of pace, they were given blank notebooks to write or draw how they felt and encouraged to explore the toys and games in the room for the remainder of the session. Predictably, Jude had found the Lego. In contrast, Callie took the opportunity to remain at the table with her head down, unwilling to participate. When it was gently suggested that she try, she stormed out—though not before telling off Dr. Wiseman. Once again, Stef had followed. This time, having a feeling that they wouldn't be back, Lena sent Jude to the waiting room ten minutes later to wait with them while she stayed for the parent debrief.

"What's going on for you right now?"

Lena sighed. The truth was, she was slightly embarrassed by how her children had acted. She was _that_ mother—the one with the spirited children _._ Still, her unease, which stemmed from a fear of being judged, bothered her. Because while Callie and Jude kept them on their toes, they were good kids.

"I know it sounds silly, but I was really hoping today might be better."

Dr. Wiseman smiled sympathetically. "I think all of us have made that mistake in our thinking at one point in time or another. Better doesn't mean perfect, though. Or easy."

"Callie and Jude are becoming more comfortable disagreeing with each other. It's expected that they would have polarizing opinions and ambivalence around their relationship with Donald. Due to their ages when he was incarcerated, both would've processed the grief around what happened at significantly different developmental stages."

She thought about how to frame things in a way that wasn't overly negative. "You may have already thought about this, but from personal and professional experience, you and Stef should probably expect more of the fights like the one today. It's completely normal."

It was always a sign of healthy separation that she liked to see—when siblings who were used to relying on each other suddenly began to argue in the process of transitioning into a more functional, typical relationship. The new territory was rarely easy for the families she worked with, though.

"How was this week? I know you and Stef had quite a lot on your plates. Did things get a chance to settle down?

Lena drew in a measured breath and blew it out. It had been a challenging week. "Somewhat. We had a meeting with the children's Case Worker on Monday to come up with a plan for Callie. It sounds like the juvenile Parole Office isn't too thrilled with her. We're waiting to see if her visits will be increased and that's keeping all of us on edge, I think. It would be very stressful for Callie if that were to happen."

She paused, wanting to phrase things in a way that avoided sharing more than she was comfortable. "Stef was quite harsh with her after she ran away—more than I was comfortable with—and Callie retreated for a few days. It had us worried, but I do think the individual attention has helped. Actually—Callie's communication seems to have significantly improved in the past week alone. She's been more forthcoming with us, though we need to prompt her. And despite her skipping, Callie's interim grades were excellent. She's doing so well in her classes."

"We've been working on implementing some emotional regulation strategies with her which we're hoping might reduce the impulsive behaviour."

Dr. Wiseman nodded encouragingly. "That's a good thought. You mentioned that Callie retreated. In what way?"

"She seemed discouraged. Becoming more withdrawn and guarded," Lena reported. "Limiting her participation with the rest of the family, that kind of thing. I think a lot of it was her not wanting to do anything wrong. She's been on her best behaviour."

"That reasoning is sound," the psychologist said, agreeing with Lena's assessment. "It makes sense that Callie would want to follow your rules. She tested you and thinks she went too far. That sort of settling effect after a period of turmoil is very typical at this stage, when attachment is still building. More about that shortly, but let's talk about Jude first. How is he doing?"

"With the exception of one incident that landed him and Callie in my office earlier this week, he's doing okay. There are ongoing issues with hygiene but that has remained stable. We had a recent success with bedwetting," Lena said, knocking on the desk for good measure. She didn't want to jinx anything!

"His eating is fairly disorganized, though. We keep a schedule at home to help him and Callie with their routine but his teacher has noticed that he often forgoes his lunch on days he's given money. I haven't figured out why; he seems genuinely happy at the idea of being able to buy his own lunch so it could be forgetfulness." Lena swallowed, getting emotional all of a sudden. "I think he's so used to not having a lunch that he forgets what the money is for." She cleared her throat. "We talked to him about it and Jude knows that if this continues we will need to think of something else."

It was an empty threat, however, because they didn't have many options. She and Stef weren't willing to isolate Jude by not allowing him to purchase his lunch. They had talked about her meeting him at his classroom and walking with him to the cafeteria but felt that that would single him out as well.

"Is there a way the cafeteria would be able to keep an account for him? So you pay the school directly and Jude is able to help himself?"

Lena sighed. "Probably, I'd have to look into that. The problem is, I think he might just not go. It's not ideal, but I could walk with him to the cafeteria to remind him to buy lunch…I just don't want Jude to be viewed differently, or make him feel like he's being treated differently, I guess," she admitted.

"That's a valid concern. It's probably still worth giving it a try, though. You never know—Jude might surprise you by only needing that to happen a few times before it becomes routinized," Dr. Wiseman encouraged.

"That reminds me—how are other aspects of Callie's self care?" she asked, scanning her notes. "Things like appetite and sleep?"

"Mmm. Some days are better than others," Lena stated. "Like Jude, her appetite is good and she will eat regularly as long as she's reminded. But Callie has definitely not been sleeping well," she reported, remembering the nightmare. "We're having more trouble than usual rousing her in the mornings."

"What about hygiene?"

"Honestly, it could be better _but…_ I will say that she is receptive to help, once she accepts we aren't going to back down. Much, much more than she was at the beginning. Stef had to get into the tub with her this week to help, but there were no issues."

"That's really great!" the psychologist said with enthusiasm. That showed security and attachment.

"The reason I was asking about self care was because Callie's at the age where she's at risk for developing depression. And she has a few more things working against her. So you want to watch not only for mood symptoms—like irritability—but for physical ones, too. Any consistent changes in sleep pattern, appetite, thinking and concentration, then I might start wondering if there is possibly depression," she explained.

"I hadn't thought about that," Lena said honestly. "We have definitely noticed that for Callie and Jude, that any stress comes across more as physical symptoms, so we'll have to watch that."

"Yes. In some ways, that makes it easier to gauge how they're doing," Dr. Wiseman said.

"How would you describe their attachment?"

There was a lengthy pause as Lena considered her answer. "That's a hard one," she confessed, needing to think about it. "I would say still fairly insecure, perhaps less fragile than it was before."

"Neither Callie nor Jude like being separated from us, Callie especially," she continued. "She got lost in the parking lot when she was with Stef a couple days ago and was quite upset by it. I wasn't there, but apparently she told Stef that she had thought she had been left behind on purpose," she said, shaking her head. "That was very hard for Stef to hear."

"And like I said, after things hit a fever pitch between them, she was more reserved in some ways because I think she was anxious to make a mistake. Sometimes she just shuts down, like she has no energy. But maybe the time-in with us has also helped her feel more secure because there has definitely been a marked improvement," Lena said, thinking aloud. "What I mean is, Callie seems more secure than when she first came to us. She's been making conversation, asking questions…starting to hug us. Things like that."

"I did notice that today they were standing very close to the both of you when you first arrived. Jude was holding your hand and Callie was behind your wife. They know you're safe," Dr. Wiseman agreed. "And that—that is very promising."

"It could be that after that period of turmoil, she's starting to understand that you and Stef might be a permanent fixture in their lives. But that's a new concept that needs time to be reconciled against previous experiences. You and Stef have the unique challenge of needing to prove all of that wrong—," she said, waving her arm to illustrate the context.

"Jude and Callie have disrupted attachment—they're used to not having their vulnerability addressed. You're doing the opposite: trying to teach them to communicate their needs appropriately, and that you and Stef will support them," she explained. "That's not going to be without bumps along the way."

She paused to jot down some more chart notes. "That's why you're seeing this anxious-ambivalent style of attachment you just described. There's anxiety when separated from you, but they're not completely reassured or secure when they're around you, either."

"Callie fights for independence that exceeds her capabilities, then panics that she doesn't have you anymore. She and Jude make a mistake—or in her case, a series of mistakes—without realizing that they could've asked for help much sooner. What typically follows is a period of anxiety characterized by worry that they've lost your approval—they desperately want to show you that they are worth it. That being said, that they are making strides is important. It means that they are moving towards a more secure attachment with you both. You'll get there."

Lena nodded in understanding. She had no doubt in her mind that when Callie and Jude decided to sign his assignments, it wasn't just to avoid getting consequences but to avoid losing their approval. "Stef overheard them talking. Callie was telling Jude not to ask me for help with his homework—that he needed to be careful with how much he bothered me," she explained, quoting with her fingers, "If he wanted me to keep loving him."

 _"God,"_ she uttered in frustration as her eyes welled up again. She couldn't imagine how on edge the kids must feel maintaining that level of hyper-vigilance when she was exhausted just thinking about it.

"Is there anything else we could be doing to support them?" Lena inquired, discouraged at the amount of work ahead of them.

Dr. Wiseman smiled. She'd been waiting for the question all parents asked eventually. "Truthfully, no. What I can say is that this is normal at this stage, and that Jude and Callie are exactly where I would expect them to be right now." She had plenty of experience to know how personally parents took this. "Much of attachment when fostering or adopting is a slow, fragile process that has little to do with what you did or didn't do. The best you can do is to continue providing lots of examples that show that the love and attention you have for them is unconditional to facilitate the transition towards a secure attachment. But like I've said, you and Stef are not responsible for the sea change in perspective that's needed for this to happen."

Lena blew out another breath, louder this time. "It's strange. Some days are really good. Jude will talk my ear off, Callie will be asking questions and pushing our buttons. Or being overly clingy. Other days, they're avoiding us," she vented. "As if they didn't remember anything…"

"It could be fatigue," the clinician pointed out. "Those cycles relate to attachment, too. On days that they're secure, they may be more comfortable testing the waters. That places a lot of demands on their capacity to process and is tiring, but they have the energy to deal with it."

"When they're less secure, they're not even going to try. And it may not have been anything you did—maybe a lot happened that day that diminished their stress tolerance. Because they've already had a lot to deal with, they may decide they're better off avoiding you instead of taking any risks. They're tapped out. That's the shutting down you describe. Constant negotiation between fighting for independence and accepting dependence is tiring."

"Over time, you'll find that the number of ups and downs will decrease as they feel more secure around you and Stef. Another thing that can catch parents off guard is that children's attachment can be more secure with one parent over the other, depending on the situation. There won't always be a predictable pattern and it's best not to take it personally."

"I was also going to say that the physical transfer of items that connect their life with Colleen and Donald with the one they'll share with you and Stef will also help nurture the relationship," Dr. Wiseman added. "As much as possible, it's important that they're returned."

"I wish we knew where to start," Lena admitted, relieved they had the opportunity to discuss this. "Bill suggested staggering the items rather than handing all of them over at once. Neither Callie nor Jude know that we have their belongings right now but we're not sure how we'd even broach the conversation. The last thing we want is to have them feel like we made decisions on their belongings. Stef said that looking over some of the photos and letters without the kids felt almost intrusive."

"Staggering is a good idea. Return items in a sequence and pace that you think they can process adequately and what you're comfortable discussing. Leave enough time and space to let feelings come up and be dealt with before moving on, being prepared to backtrack as needed."

"You'll want to create pockets of safety, too, to give them the option to participate as they're ready and to disengage when they're done. So for example, for photos and letters, I would say, let Jude and Callie know you have them. Show them where you're hoping to put them—ideally not in their room—and invite them to help you put them in an album. This establishes clear boundaries and gives them permission to come and go on their own terms."

"That's a great idea," Lena said. "I was hoping to put all of them in an album in time for the adoption but hadn't thought about asking for their help with it." This was a much better option.

"While that would be a thoughtful surprise that Jude and Callie would probably appreciate, you run the risk of hurt feelings if they stumble upon the project," Dr. Wiseman advised.

"It also doesn't allow them to grieve," Lena said, seeing the disadvantage with the original idea.

"Another thing I caution parents in this situation is to not to get too caught up with how belongings are allocated or shared. You'll find that the kids will have a unique affinity for some items over others, depending on their memories and the developmental stage they were at when they lost them. It's going to be difficult to make things fair and you shouldn't try to.

"I was thinking that, with the cassettes." Lena had been reluctant to push Callie to share when with Jude, but she felt guilty that the boy had been left out. Realizing that the woman had no idea what she was talking about, she explained that the recorded stories being read out loud had been a birthday gift from Colleen.

"We never considered telling Jude. Stef was able to be there when Callie played them, and that was special," she admitted. "But I could see how hurt he was when he found out today."

"That's a tough one. I wouldn't expect Callie to share them, just like I wouldn't expect Jude to share something with Callie he had an attachment to. The tapes are her's and she does have a right to be selfish about that though that may upset him. You could encourage Callie by telling her that it'd be special for him to be able to hear their Mom, like she got to."

"Any tips on how to handle the books?" Lena asked. That was a whole separate issue that was looming, one she'd been losing sleep over and wasn't looking forward to bringing up.

Folding her hands together, Gisella Wiseman leaned back in her chair. This was one situation she hadn't encountered in her years of practice. "Have you received any updated information from the Child Abuse Unit?"

"Their theory is that Jude was responsible for all the drawings. They can't be a hundred percent certain, but that's what it looks like. They have gathered all the evidence and the file is open, but without a statement they won't be able to proceed with next steps," Lena said. She was thankful Bill had connected with Dr. Wiseman about the discovery. It took the pressure off having to explain everything from scratch.

"There is a possibility that Jude may not remember doing them," the psychologist said. "Trauma is a natural eraser. Repressing memories is the brain's way of trying to protect itself."

"That's what we were thinking," Lena said, nodding. "Well, and that Callie might be completely unaware, or not know the full extent." She paused, trying to brainstorm the best way to return the books. "The kids' bedrooms don't have much shelf space, so they would have to either go on the bookshelf in the den or living room."

"Right. That preserves a safe space and gives them to chance to look through them on their own terms," Dr. Wiseman agreed. "In terms of language, you could tell Jude and Callie that you've been given some of their books. Ask if they want to see them and show them where there's space for them to be stored. Let them lead from there."

"There will be a resurgence of trauma as Jude remembers. It may look like confusion or distress, and there may be a setback in behaviour. It probably won't be immediate; what typically happens in young children is that their bodies pick up on something being wrong before they can identify it consciously."

The clinician paused, thinking of how to broach the last topic before ending the session. "How are you and Stef holding up with what you learned about the children's past experiences in other homes?"

Caught off guard, Lena gave the woman a broken smile. "I…I'm not sure, to be honest. I don't think we've had a chance to think about it."

"It's helpful to understand why the kids are so averse to bathing…but we're having a hard time accepting that there's not much we can do about it," she said bitterly, alluding to the prior abuse.

She and Stef had agreed right away that they were unwilling to put the children through the trauma of being questioned when any charges would be unlikely. "We've decided on a wait-and-see approach…to see if Jude brings it up." They were hoping that this would come up during the initial assessment when the boy was ready for individual sessions.

"That's a much kinder alternative to a confrontational approach. It's always preferable to let it come out naturally, as they're ready. So I reckon your reasoning is sound."

"But you are not happy with this plan," the clinician remarked gently as she watched Lena fight back tears, not saying anything this time.

This time, Lena couldn't stop her breath from hitching. "It feels like we're letting them down."

"Alright. Maybe we should unpack this."

* * *

By the time Lena emerged from the psychologist's office, her head was filled with details she needed to remember to relay to Stef. That was competing with her primary interest, however, of making sure her children were okay. The second time Callie had walked out from the room, her wife had followed very quickly. It'd been difficult to read Stef's expression, but she worried that she might have told Callie off. At the same time, Lena wanted to scold the girl herself for provoking Jude, even though she fully understood the source of her frustration.

All of her worry and annoyance melted away as she took in the scene in the waiting room.

A magazine with a sheet of blank paper on top was on the coffee table; she couldn't make out the written lines from where she was standing, but the loopy writing was recognizably Callie's.

The rest of the surface was littered with the remnants of client snacks Gisella had available in the office: empty juice boxes, fruit salad cups, cheese string shells, and a number of wrappers from individually-portioned cookies. Lena shook her head. The whole reason she had insisted on packing their own food was because she could ensure the options for the kids were healthier. She began to laugh at the comical sight and her wife's guilt-ridden expression, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth when Stef held a finger up to her lips and pointed beside her.

Curled across two chairs, sound asleep with his head on her wife's lap, was Jude. Her jacket draped over his small frame.

On Stef's other side was Callie, sprawled onto her stomach. The magazine she was reading propped up against the cop's thigh.

 _Sticking_ _close by_ _._


	38. Mending a Broken Heart

**Author Note:**

Not at all close to my goal of posting another chapter in time for New Year's, but alas, it was not meant to be. Life got in the way. Hope you enjoy this next one; I had a great deal of fun shifting the focus back to Callie and Stef and exploring some new areas of growth in their relationship. Also played around with some family dynamics, but the process was just okay. Mainly it felt like it was time to situate Callie with the rest of the kids.

Hopeful that with the start of the new season we'll get some more activity on this fandom. I'm already so excited seeing some new stories/crossovers popping up. I feel like I'm missing some of my regular readers, too...so if you're around, drop me a line to let me know you're still here, please! Much love, ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 36:** Mending a Broken Heart

Lena felt her nerves fray as her children ragged on one another at the table during their evening snack. It'd been a long day, one spent organizing parent-teacher conferences and fielding a number of calls from anxious parents. She had been planning running a bath when she got home until Stef had called. A fellow unit member had suddenly became ill and been sent home. Too late to find a sub, she'd been asked to stay to cover the remainder of her coworker's shift. While neither minded the overtime, it meant Lena had been in charge to figure out dinner and wrangle the kids through their evening routine. Now, she was counting down the minutes for Stef to come in the door. Which she should have, over forty minutes ago.

" _Ew_. _What_ are you _doing_?" Mariana scoffed, sharing a smirk with Brandon. The two of them had just watched Callie spread a thick layer of butter onto her slice before using a teaspoon to sprinkle white sugar over it.

Callie looked around the table. "Fixing my bread?" she answered, confused. Shrugging, she tore the soft center out of the crust and popped it into her mouth. The butter had melted, soaking the dough to create a warm, gooey surface for the crunchy granules of sugar. The best combo, ever—and even better on homemade bread.

"Why can't you use jam or cheese like everyone else?" Mariana asked with a hint of derision. From across the table, Brandon snickered.

" _Brandon_. _Mariana._ That's enough," Lena said firmly. Wanting to do something nice for her wife after a twelve-hour shift and not have to think of a bedtime snack for the kids, she had popped a sourdough loaf into the oven after dinner. She was beginning to regret that decision, though, as she watched the interaction between the two girls.

"But—"

"No, Mariana. If what Callie is doing offends you so much, you can go to your room and get ready for bed," she scolded. She'd been allowing this exchange to happen between the girls, partly because she was curious as to how far her younger daughter would take things but was nearing the end of her rope. While she would never wish a hard life on any child, she was finding it difficult to deal with how spoiled Mariana had been acting lately.

"Sorry Mama."

Lena levelled the girl with a steely gaze. "It's not me you need to apologize to, Miss Thang."

Her youngest daughter groaned and rolled her eyes. "Sorry Cal."

"S'okay." Callie shrugged again. She didn't get what the big deal was. "This is really good," she said, turning to her foster mother. "Thank you for baking."

Feeling her annoyance immediately dissipate, Lena couldn't even bring herself to remind her daughter not to talk with her mouth full. Not being privy to the same comforts as the others, Callie and Jude seemed to light up over the simplest, everyday experiences. Like bread. That, she could do.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Anytime."

* * *

Stef was relieved to find Callie still awake when she cracked open the door to the girls' room and peered inside. Her daughter was lying on top of her comforter, reading; however, the lamp was on the dimmest setting and she was in her PJs, a sign that she planned to go to bed soon. This had been the pattern for over a week and she and Lena were beginning to think it was something they needed to be more worried about, like low iron or the start of depression. Consequently, they were keeping a very close eye on her and planned to call their family doctor if it persisted.

"Hi my baby," the cop whispered, smiling when Callie's face brightened at seeing her. "What are you doing up here all by yourself?" she asked. The rest of the family was still downstairs.

"I wanted to work on a song and didn't want to bother anyone," Callie replied, putting the book down.

"That's great, honey!" She hadn't seen her daughter touch her guitar in over a week. Sure enough, it was back in its usual spot in the corner by the shared dresser. "I have a hard time believing you'd bother anyone with your strumming, though, honey. We all miss you playing, you know.

"So what song are you working on?"

"Something by The National. You probably don't know them."

"Try me."

Callie looked at her skeptically. "It's called Sea of love."

"Hmm? The, 'Hey Joe, sorry I hurt you, they say love is a virtue…' That one?" Stef tried as the girl's eyes widened. "I do know a thing or two about folk bands. I discovered them during the 2008 Presidential campaign."

"Oh…" Callie scrunched her face. "It's not really folk. It's indie rock."

"Okay Miss Indie Rock. So how far did you get?"

"Not far. I got too tired," the girl admitted as she let out a big yawn right on cue.

"I can see that. Have you brushed your teeth?" she asked, not yet finishing her sentence before Callie nodded emphatically.

"Mhm!"

"Good girl. How about I go get you a glass of water and your multivitamin, and then I'll come back up to tuck you in?"

"'Kay."

* * *

"What did you do?" the cop remarked in amusement when she came back a short while later. Callie had the covers pulled over her but the blankets were askew and a lump at the foot of the bed looked strangely like a fitted sheet that was crumpled into a ball. This was not a surprise; her daughter was a restless sleeper and had likely paid little attention to making the bed.

"Come on. Sit up," she said, patting the girl on the leg. She handed Callie her water and a Flintstones chewable before stripping the sheets off the bed and straightening them.

"All done?" she asked, taking the glass back and setting it on the side table.

"Mhm."

Looking at Callie—warm, clean, in clothes that fit her…fed and _loved—_ made her happy. It had only been a few months and despite the turbulence, the girl had settled in many ways. Even simple things, like the multivitamin, was a big deal. Callie had initially been so mistrusting of them that she would pocket them—and as they later learned, any and all medications—in her cheek and spit them out later. They hadn't appreciated the extent of the problem until one day she took a ladder to clean the eaves. Under Callie's window was a deposit of multivitamins, omega-3s, probiotic capsules, and Amoxicillin tablets. All intact. After that discovery, they were more careful. Vitamins were changed to chewable and medications were ordered as emulsions whenever possible. If not, they would check for any cheeking, much to the girl's dismay.

Callie smiled as she snuggled into the pillows the cop had just fluffed for her. "It feels nice with the sheet there," she said earnestly as the woman tucked the blanket around her.

Stef rolled her eyes. " _Really_? I would've never guessed," she said, smirking at her daughter. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed under her as she faced Callie. With everyone else downstairs, she was looking forward to giving her daughter her undivided attention.

"You doing okay, Cal? Mama and I feel like you've been sleeping a little more than usual, yet you seem just as tired."

"Yeah."

Despite the dismissive reply, Stef noticed the girl's face drop. Her daughter wasn't going to let her in without some digging—but luckily, she wasn't one to give up so easily.

"Are you still getting cravings during the day and feeling nauseous?"

"Mmm, yeah. Sometimes. Mama lets me have the snacks you bought."

"Lucky girl." She smoothed Callie's hair—which, though unruly, had been looking much healthier lately. Her daughter opened her mouth as if to say something before closing it again. There was a question there.

"How come you stood up for me?" Callie asked, finally managing to get the words out. "When Bill was over."

It was something she'd been thinking of and feeling guilty over, but hadn't mustered up the courage to ask. Why they'd covered for her when it would've been so easy for them to turn her in.

"Hmm?"

Callie frowned. "You know, when you said to Bill that the school didn't have proof of me smoking pot, but…"

"Even though I knew you had? _Oh_ , I remember," the cop said, wearing an expression of amusement. She definitely had not forgotten how Callie had tried to pull a fast one on her the day she'd gotten suspended.

"Yeah," Callie said dejectedly. It was weird how Stef often seemed to know what she meant.

Stef hummed and adjusted the covers, biding her time to find the right words. It was no simple task to explain to her child that she didn't think being potentially breached for parole was in her best interests—especially given that she and Lena fully expected their children to be honest with them.

That what she felt was needed for Callie was a stable home with parents who'd be _on_ her, not juvenile detention. Because each removal, no matter how short, was traumatic.

She didn't know how to say any of that without Callie concluding she could get away with breaking her conditions and assuming that they'd always stand up for her. They would, of course—but she didn't want her daughter confusing their support with having pull with the powers that be. Because she didn't have that.

"Well, for one, I believe in second chances and that you deserve them, just as much as anyone else in your situation would. Mama and I weren't going to take that away from you just because we weren't happy with some of your choices," she began.

"Your worth didn't change, honey. You weren't, all of a sudden, less deserving because you made mistakes." Her tone was tired, carrying a hint of exasperation with it. "People's worth are not determined by their behaviour, Callie. I don't believe in that.

"You thinking about your brother?" Stef asked when the girl didn't respond. She had a hunch as to where the self-consciousness stemmed from.

Her daughter gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she dropped the act. "Jude's mad at me."

"Have you had a chance to talk to him?" Stef questioned. She felt for her daughter; what they had witnessed over the weekend at Dr. Wiseman's had likely been one of Callie and Jude's first major fights. They had since apologized to each other but things still appeared distant between them. Jude seemed to be managing okay and was spending more time with the two older boys; his sister, on the other hand, was still holding on to the weight of his words and was taking it much harder.

"No," Callie sighed, feeling a twinge of resentment. All of this had started because of Dr. Wiseman. "It's fine…" she minimized.

" _Callie_ …" the woman said sympathetically, worried at how quickly withdrawn her daughter had become. "He didn't mean it, honey. Just like you didn't mean everything you said. But words can really hurt…you two need to learn that," she gently reminded.

That was what it all boiled down to: hurt feelings.

 _"Stop FOLLOWING me!" Callie shouted as she stormed down the hall. She was angry, but the waver in her voice gave away that she was crying. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"_

 _"I know that's what you'd like but I can't allow you to walk off," the cop murmured, following closely behind. Callie might want to be alone, but she definitely wasn't getting that right now._

 _The girl spun around on her heel to challenge her. "Why not? This—this is crap! I said I didn't want to come to this. You and Lena never fucking listen!" Callie ranted in frustration._

 _Unwilling to let her daughter get away with being disrespectful, Stef took grasp of Callie's arm. "Hey! Language!"_

 _"Well maybe I wouldn't have to resort to using language you don't like if you just listened!" the girl sassed, squirming to get out of the hold Stef had on her._

 _"Callie! Stop. I know you are upset, but you do not get to talk to us this way or walk away," Stef said firmly. She let go in favour of crossing her arms and levelling Callie with a stern look. "We may not be home right now but don't you think for a second that I won't have you write lines for me while we're here," she warned._

 _"I don't CARE!" her daughter huffed tearfully. "Your lines are bullshit, anyway!"_

 _"Okay. You are pushing it, missy. I'm giving you a chance to calm down—"_

 _"I WON'T! I WON'T because I'm not going back in there!"_

 _"Alright. You need to stop shouting at me this instant," Stef said firmly. She narrowed her eyes at the child, who had started to argue but thought better of it._

 _"Thank you. Now…I wasn't going to suggest that you needed to go back in right away. I thought we could have a snack break and get you cleaned up before we even talked about doing that," she coaxed. Seeing her daughter's anger dissipate, she extended her hand._

 _"I don't need to go to the bathroom!"_

 _"We're not going to the bathroom, Cal," she reassured, hoping to placate her. "Just the kitchen. Come on…it's this way."_

 _Callie gave her a sad look of resignation before reciprocating. Together, they walked hand-in-hand toward the staff area tucked away in the back. By the time they got to the table, her daughter had calmed enough to allow her to give her a hug._

 _Grabbing a juice box and granola bar from the basket on the table, she sat them in front of Callie before heading to the sink in search of paper towel. She felt terrible knowing that this battle wasn't done yet; she still needed to convince Callie to return to the session._

 _By the time she returned, the tantrum had subsided. Callie was crying softly and she felt guilty for having been annoyed with her for provoking Jude. All it took was one look at her daughter to recognize that it'd come from a place of hurt and that her tolerance to cope had been surpassed._

 _"Oh…Bug. I know it's hard…" she soothed, pulling up a chair. "…but you need to watch your temper," she said as she began to wipe the girl's face._

* * *

Stef tapped Callie on the shoulder. The girl's eyelids had begun to flutter and she did not want her to fall asleep since it was still early.

"Hey, before I forget! Close your eyes and don't open them until I say."

When she returned a minute later, she had the bag with the one item she'd brought home from work.

Callie immediately opened her eyes at feeling the weight press on her legs. Whatever it was, wasn't visible through the blue-tinged plastic.

"What is it?" she asked, flashing an impish grin. She wasn't used to getting random presents, although with Stef and Lena, it was different. It wasn't unusual for the women to come home with something for them. Last time, it'd been a new outfit from when Lena had gone to the mall for herself.

"I don't know, honey. Guess you're going to have to see for yourself." As Stef watched her daughter carefully pull the sterile wrapping off the item, she couldn't help the myriad of emotions. Callie would be thrilled, but for her, returning the book symbolized a failure.

After discussing with Roberts and her colleagues, she had no choice but to accept that any efforts to pursue charges would do more harm than good. They'd have to get Callie or Jude to speak, but even if that were possible, the odds would be against them.

The main issues were that while the drawings themselves were evidence, they weren't considered reliable like audio or visual proof. It'd be hard to prove Jude had done them or that he wouldn't be influenced in any way by seeing them. Especially not with the amount of time that had already lapsed.

At the end of the day, unearthing their trauma for the sake of a statement that was unlikely to result in any charges wasn't worth it to her and Lena. For now, the evidence had been collected and reviewed—ready for when either child chose to come forward in the future. The chance of that happening was minuscule but they'd agreed that this was the safer, less intrusive option. But this went against everything her law enforcement career had been built upon.

Callie frowned as she ran her fingers over the embossed dust-jacket. Something about the gold, raised print tugged at her memory. She cracked it open, finding the familiar handwriting.

 _Happy 5th Birthday, Callie Quinn! Can't believe this is_ _FIVE_ _! Love you to pieces, Mama._

"Where'd you get this?" Callie breathed. Before Stef could answer, she sat up to throw her arms around her foster mother. "Thank you! Thanks so much!"

"You're welcome, honey." Callie's grip on her was so tight that she could barely get the words out. "But you should really thank Bill the next time you see him. If I remember correctly, when they cleaned out your family's apartment, a neighbour or maybe the landlord put aside some of your belongings. Those went to Bill and he's been keeping everything until you and Jude could be adopted."

Her daughter let go and sank back into her pillow, waiting for her to continue.

"Remember last week when he came by? He brought them over then," the cop said.

"Oh. Okay…"

Stef waited for the next question to drop as she watched the girl's brow furrow, processing the information. It was coming.

"Where's the rest of it?"

"Being cleaned," the cop replied calmly. Internally, she was bracing for a tantrum. "Don't worry, they're coming. All of it was in storage and we wanted to make sure everything was clean because depending on what else was being stored, there was a worry that there would be pests," she explained, keeping it as factual as she could. The items had gone through the bug sauna at work twice to make sure all the eggs were gone.

"Okay," Callie said happily. There was a pause before she spoke again. "I don't mind if it isn't clean."

Stef bopped her daughter on the nose. "I know _you_ don't but Mama and I _do_." She waited for more questions but luckily, they didn't come. For now, Callie seemed to accept what she'd been told.

"I was going to bring you up the mini-stereo from the garage and some spare headphones, but wanted to check to make sure that'd be something you want first" She remembered Callie telling her she was too old for the stories and didn't want to assume anything.

Callie stared at her. She'd forgotten that the cop said she could borrow the cassette player but that was before she realized she would get her book back. "I'd like that," she said quietly.

"Alright, we can do that," Stef said, beaming at the thought of being able to do something that Callie wanted. "I can't promise I'll get it done tonight but for sure tomorrow after work. Remind me, okay? If you need it before I get to it, I've left it on the table in there with a couple new batteries."

"Kay," Callie whispered. "Thanks for letting us keep our stuff."

"No need to thank us. We don't want you and Jude to have to let go of anymore things."

"Stef?"

"Yes, my Bug?"

"Do I have to let Jude listen?"

Stef drew in a breath. Something about Callie and Jude's dynamic had shifted since their argument; neither had ever approached her or Lena for advice before. But while a part of her was thrilled, telling them what to do wasn't easy, either. The children had only had each other to rely on for so long that it felt awkward to suddenly intervene.

"That's a tough one, Cal," she said honestly. "I think that Jude was very upset to find out about the tapes the way he did and that it'd disappoint him to not hear your Mom, now that he's aware that is a possibility," she said. "It would probably be very special to him-just like it was to you-if you shared it with him."

The woman tapped on the cover. "But I also know Jude was a baby when you got this present...so you feel like he doesn't have a right to it, correct?" she suggested gently as Callie nodded.

"But, he doesn't even remember her," the girl countered.

"That's not true, honey. Jude remembers," Stef replied, trying to abate her daughter's bitterness. "Maybe differently than you do but he does remember your Mom. We make memories from the time we are very young.

"And that is why I forget things, because…" She gestured, inviting Callie to get in a good dig, if only to lift her spirits.

"You're very, very old," Callie filled in before dissolving into giggles.

Stef winked. "Don't I know it!" Seeing her daughter's expression become downcast, she sighed; she hadn't really answered her question. "Look, Mama and I would be delighted if you shared the recording with Jude. I think it'd be special—not just for him, but for you too—to let him in on a memory you were able to have with your Mom when he was too young to remember. It isn't his fault that he was a baby when you turned five, is it?" she pointed out gently. "You giving Jude a chance to hear her…that doesn't take away from your experience, right?"

Callie sighed. Her foster mother did have a point.

"I know it's not going to be easy," she empathized, "and we wouldn't expect you to share those cassettes when you're not ready. So if you need more time, that's okay—but I'm thinking you should probably listen to them in the den until you're ready. Because it might hurt Jude's feelings even more if he found you in here listening and you don't plan on letting him listen, too," she suggested, relieved when Callie nodded.

"Sound fair?"

"Yes ma'am," the girl replied sadly, having expected an answer like that.

* * *

"Did you not get enough for bedtime snack?" Stef questioned as her daughter's stomach squealed. "Why don't you go get something downstairs? You'll have to brush again but at least you won't go to bed hungry." She cracked up at the horrified look Callie gave her. "Oh right, sorry. We wouldn't want to brush _twice_ ," she teased lovingly. This kid was a riot.

"Heard you made a welfare donut out of Mama's fancy sourdough," she said, referring to the butter and sugar spread Lena had told her about. It was somewhat of a derogatory term used to describe a staple in poorer households and prison.

Callie grinned. She figured she'd done something that was looked down upon. "It was good. But I can use other stuff next time." She didn't want the others to be mad at her, too.

"No, no. You can use whatever you want—I'm so happy that you liked it. Sorry that Mariana and B gave you such a hard time. That wasn't nice of them," Stef apologized on their behalf. She would be discussing it with them later.

"That's okay." The girl's expression became serious. "We used to have it at home—only sometimes because Mom said it was bad for your teeth. But in juvie, food was pretty bad…the bread was okay though so I'd make sure to always eat it to hold me a bit longer between meals," she divulged. Amidst the constant yelling and noises that never failed to startle her, two slices of bread with soft butter and white sugar was the one consistent thing she looked forward to. "It kinda made me think about the time before everything changed," she said quietly.

Feeling awkward, she scooted down a little in the bed and curled onto her side.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. You had to grow up way too fast," the woman murmured, stroking Callie's hair.

Not knowing what to say, Callie grew silent. She hadn't liked being there but wasn't resentful about it. Sure, some of the guards had been scary but for the most part, she had had the advantage of being one of the younger inmates and the older girls on her block often looked out for her.

Stef smiled as her daughter took her hand and rested her face against her palm. Her hand was now trapped between Callie's cheek and the pillow.

"You smell," Callie informed her before moving away.

"What? I do?" Taken aback by the girl's bluntness, the cop withdrew her hand and gave it a whiff. "Sorry, Cal. It's hand sani."

"Where were you?"

"Hmm? Didn't Mama tell you guys?" She had missed this nighttime routine with her daughter—the back and forth with questions pertaining to topics that were never set in stone. Some days, the most talking they did was at the end of the day. "One person on our unit got food poisoning and had to leave early. We were short-staffed and things were already busy so I was asked to cover the rest of her shift."

The woman couldn't help but chuckle when Callie replied with, "She said seven but it was almost nine," referring to how late she had been. It wasn't accusatory, but more of a simple fact. You couldn't get away with anything with this kid, who was always quietly taking it all in even when you least expected it.

"I know. I'm sorry—I didn't intend on coming home so late. There was a domestic violence call that came up at the end of shift and these things always end up taking longer than usual. She really didn't want to press charges or leave…by the time I convinced her, we needed to find a safe house that had available beds," she explained. Never one to confuse protectiveness with coddling, she didn't hide her work from the children—much to her wife's dismay.

She watched as her daughter fidgeted under the blanket and pulled the comforter right up to her chin. "What's on your mind, love?"

"You're always in danger," Callie remarked quietly.

"No. That's absolutely not true," the cop countered, picking up on the sudden anxiety.

"But, you have a gun."

"We do carry a firearm for our safety when we aren't able to bring things under control with our words and body language. But we have a lot of training to assess for risk in many different types of situations, and if there's any uncertainty, we always bring backup patrol.

"Not all parts of my job are risky. I also issue a lot of traffic tickets and talk to certain hooligans who are found skipping school, don't I?" She gave her daughter the side eye and received a mischievous grin in return.

"Today I helped out with the new batch of K9 recruits."

That piqued Callie's curiosity. "What's that?"

Stef grabbed her phone from her pocket, pulling up a photo of the eight-week old puppy she'd gotten to handle that morning . The German Shepard was all snout and ears, with paws that were too large for him. "We're training police dogs for our canine unit. I was working with this little fella," she said, handing it over to Callie.

"He's so cute! What's his name?"

"Ricochet. With a name like that I don't think any of us are surprised that he's probably going to be let go from his duties," she joked. "He's incorrigible."

 _Story of my life,_ she thought. Her children didn't listen to her and her puppy didn't, either.

The girl frowned at hearing the familiar word. "What's incorrigible mean?"

The earnest question puzzled the cop; it was such an odd thing to focus on. "It means that he's so stubborn that he's not able to be corrected or reformed," she explained.

Callie felt tears prick her eyes. "That's not fair! He's just a puppy!"

The turning of the tides in her daughter's demeanour caught Stef off guard. "What's not fair, love?"

"Because! Maybe—maybe he's trying his best but it's really hard and none of you can tell because he can't talk! It's not fair that he's gonna be put down because he isn't good at doing what you say!" Callie defended as she continued to get worked up.

" _Whoa whoa whoa_! Who said anything about putting down Ricochet?" the cop interrupted as the words sank in.

"But. You said—" The girl frowned as she tried to remember the exact words Stef had used.

"Mom?"

Stef fought to maintain a neutral expression as her heart thudded in her chest. She wasn't sure if Callie had meant to call her that, or if it'd happened absentmindedly because she was tired.

" _Yeh—es?"_ she responded, mimicking the singsong way in which her daughter had addressed her: _Mo—om._

"Is let go the same as put down?" Callie asked in a small voice, sure she'd start bawling if it was.

"No, baby. It's not the same as put down," the woman clarified. That level of distress suddenly made a lot more sense.

Callie stared at her, a mix of relief and embarrassment on her face. "Oh. Okay. Good…'cause just because he's not good at stuff yet doesn't mean he won't be or that he's a good for nothing," she said passionately, wiping away her tears. "That's not fair, because you only see what he's doing and not how hard he's trying. He's not…he's not a bad dog!"

"I didn't say that Ricochet was a bad or useless dog, did I?" Stef asked, trying to mask her amusement. "He's actually quite a perceptive little guy and we're hoping that he'll go to our trauma division—so he can give support to victims of crime when they're being interviewed. He'd be great at something like that," she pointed out, relieved to see Callie's anxiety dissipate.

"Yeah. He can do things that he's better at," the girl agreed.

The sight of her daughter wiping away her tears tugged at Stef's heartstrings. "Is that how you feel sometimes—that no one sees how hard you're working?" Stef gently pried. Decades of being with Lena had taught her how to recognize when her children were projecting.

Her daughter gave another nod. _Yeah_.

" _Lovebug_ …" the woman said sympathetically as she wracked her brain, trying to determine at what point Callie had decided her efforts were going unnoticed. Moving closer up the bed, she clasped the girl's hands in her's.

"Mama and I see how hard you're trying, I promise that we do. We see it every day—if we have ever given you the impression that we didn't think you were giving it your all, it was unintentional. I don't want you to ever forget that, okay?" she said, getting another half-hearted nod in response.

"I'm so sorry you felt this way, I wish we had known so we could've talked about it...". She paused, trying to figure out what else to say.

"It's important to try…but you know what else?"

Callie shook her head, giving her a dubious look.

"It's even more important to think about why you're trying. Those reasons behind why you're working so hard," she said, suspecting this had something to do with her daughter's recent uptick in anxiety.

"Right?"

"It doesn't matter," Callie said with a sigh.

Concerned, the woman frowned. "What do you mean? Of course it matters, honey."

"They're going to come take me away…aren't they?" Callie said in a discouraged tone before averting her gaze entirely. True, she didn't know what to think of Stef and Lena but she was absolutely certain she didn't want to go back to juvie.

Stef's stomach instantly churned with guilt for not being able to be more transparent with the girl— _especially_ now that she knew Callie had likely been dogged by this fear since the family meeting. With the statement from the school clarifying the suspension and the approval to move Callie out of group therapy, the situation was looking slightly more hopeful.

Without confirmation from the Parole Officer, however, things remained precarious. Technically, Callie could still be arrested on a breach of conditions but as the days passed, she was more confident that wouldn't happen. Unless, of course, the truth about the marijuana possession, running away, and firearm came out.

Her daughter wasn't aware of these details, though. Much of it wasn't appropriate and Callie wasn't mature enough to hear it, anyway. And she and Lena, not wanting to get anyone's hopes up—including their own—hadn't planned on sharing that information. Not until they heard from the PO about how juvenile justice wanted to proceed.

For now, Callie needed to believe that the consequences were grave enough that it'd help them keep a tight rein on her.

She just wished there was a better option. One that didn't take advantage of her daughter's loss of security. Callie appeared fragile and unsteady, rarely challenging them and needing more consistent reassurance. It felt like they had clipped her wings and taken away her voice, which was what was most concerning. There were some positives that had come out of it, though. For the longest time it seemed like the only thing their daughter knew how to respond was to fight. Now that that instinct had gone, they could talk. _Callie_ could talk. The three of them had been able to have the most honest discussions they'd ever had without argument.

" _Cal._ I can't make any promises, but as far as we know, going back to juvie isn't on the table this time. What _is_ being considered is that you might have more visits with your PO over the next little while," Stef said, drawing on language Bill had used.

It was the truth; the Juvenile Justice branch had only asked for a management plan, which included increased frequency of appointments.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, seeing the doubt flicker across the girl's face. "We don't know what's going to happen yet, and I can't imagine how stressful and frustrating…how out of control that must feel," she continued. "But you have a lot of people on your side. Me, Mama, Jude and the rest of your siblings…our parents. _Bill_. _Yes_ , even Bill," she emphasized when Callie's brow furrowed.

Stef squeezed her daughter's hand tight in encouragement. "There are so many of us on your side who are fighting for you…I know it's a big ask, but you need to trust that we're working on it and _let_ us.

"For now, all you need to know is that we will get through this as a family. Mama and I will walk with you every step of the way—whether you want us to or not. If you have increased visits with your PO, we'll be going with you."

"Really?"

The cop smiled sadly. "Yes, really." She felt awful that she couldn't give Callie the solid ground she was seeking for—that this was the very best she could do at this time.

"I want you to listen to me. Really hear me out, Callie," she urged. "No matter _what_ happens, none of us are going _anywhere_ ," she enunciated. "I—I want you to start telling yourself that even if you don't fully believe it."

Because it was true. She and Lena had discussed it over and over and were adamant that even if the worst happened and Callie was taken into custody, their home—her home—would be waiting for her. They would fight to be able to go through with the adoption.

"Do you hear me?" Stef demanded, gently shaking Callie's hands. She was determined not to let her lose hope. Losing hope was dangerous. When kids felt like they'd lost everything, they often didn't see a point in trying anymore and would become more reckless. Because there was nothing left to lose—to care about.

She wouldn't let Callie go down this path again.

* * *

 **A/N:** Trouble brewing between Callie and Jude. I have some ideas up my sleeve but would love to hear your's!


	39. Pulling Apart at the Seams

**Author Note:**

If you guys haven't had the chance, please hop on over to the Chapter 35 extension by **theypreferthetermpeople** (s/12821714/1/Making-Wisdom-Out-of-Wounds-Continued). She wrote a StefxLena scene after Stef helps Callie with her shower and it's a beautiful addition.

Life is flying by here. I just started drafting the last chapter (tear!) amidst washing baby clothes. My second kiddo should be arriving in spring and I've long given up the idea of finishing up this fic before his arrival. I'm on track to finish drafting but expect posts will be slower.

Stef and Lena will learn what Callie overheard around the Chapter 40 mark; once we get there, hopefully it'll be clear how the tension with Jude precipitated all of that. Callie has been doing a good job keeping her insecurities under wraps, but a couple more stressors will perpetuate her anxiety about being unwanted and strain her ability to keep it to herself. There are no plans to have Stef get injured at work. There's been enough crises in IUW and I do not have the heart to throw in another setback. It would be so hard on Callie. Plus, Stef has been making so many inroads with her.

New readers: welcome, I hope you enjoy! ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 37:** Pulling Apart at the Seams

"Lena!" Stef called as she threw her wallet and keys onto the entryway console. "Anyone home?" The house was a little too quiet for her own comfort; usually the kids would be around, either doing their homework or lounging in the family room.

Making her way into the kitchen, she found her wife elbow deep in a sink full of dishes, staring distractedly out the window. Their children were outside in the backyard.

"Babe?" she tried again. Walking up from behind, she wrapped her arms around Lena's waist to get her attention. "Smells good."

"Oh, hi honey. I didn't hear you come in," Lena said. "Dinner's almost ready—it just needs to simmer a little bit longer. Pulled pork burgers, coleslaw, and soup."

"Mmm, sounds great…but that's not what I was referring to," Stef whispered into her ear.

Lena smiled as her wife buried her nose in her neck. She turned off the faucet and wiped her hands before reciprocating with a hug and a kiss of her own. I'm so glad you're finally home," she sighed.

In actuality, Stef hadn't been that late tonight; she just happened to be exhausted after dealing with all five of their children. Days like this it felt as though she was a frazzled new parent all over again.

"Thanks for letting me do what I love…" Stef said. It was something she was always appreciative about but knew she didn't express nearly as often as she should.

When Jesus and Mariana were still new to the family, Lena had been offered an administrative position within the school district. The pay grade was a notch higher, making it attractive because it would have allowed Stef to go down to part-time. However, it required long hours—some on weekends—being on call, and travelling. Lena had gone back and forth on whether to accept it, but ultimately turned it down. She knew Stef wouldn't have been happy being home more and that two parents working unpredictable hours would be too much of a stressor on their family. The twins needed a lot of attention then, and the job didn't make sense. But Stef had carried the burden of guilt ever since.

"Wait—what happened?" Stef asked, concerned all of a sudden. It wasn't like Lena to sound so discouraged.

Lena shook her head. _Their kids were menaces, that's what._ "Jesus and Jude were pretty hyper and being disruptive during homework…no one was able to focus, so I ended up sending all of them out and said no one was coming back in until we were ready for dinner."

"That sounds fair. I would've done the same." The cop looked out the window to take inventory and frowned; they were all there, except their youngest. The implication being that something had happened and that he'd probably been sent to his room. "Uh, where's Jude?" she asked, a little nervously. He had been acting out more since their family session.

Lena sighed loudly, clearly exasperated. "Upstairs having quiet time," she said, referring to their euphemism for a time out. "He kept pestering me and pestering me about riding his bike. I compromised by saying that he could walk it if he wanted to, but that was it—that he was not to ride it," she explained, regretting that she had caved. "Anyways, with Jesus'… _encouragement…_ he promptly took it to the side of the house to try and ride it where I wouldn't see. I'm guessing Callie was trying to stop him because I heard the two of them arguing, and then she and Jesus started getting into it." That was when she had gotten involved.

The cop slumped her head down in defeat. All this over a bike that Jude had had for less than a week. The reason they'd been strict with him on not riding it was because he didn't know how to yet and they were still waiting for his helmet to arrive. Knowing how much Jude looked forward to it, she had ordered one for him right away and had already spent hours replacing the brake lines, sanding out and painting over the rust, and tightening up the handlebars. So it was frustrating that he was being so impatient.

"I don't think I can stand hearing one more peep about that bike," Stef said, shaking her head. "If he can't listen, he's going to lose it."

"That's essentially what I told him. That maybe it needed to go away for awhile." Lena agreed but it hadn't felt good to tell him that.

"And how did my little man take it?"

"Let's just say, it could've gone better," Lena admitted. She bit her lip, figuring out how to best temper her words. More often than not, Stef's days were draining. The last thing she wanted to do was to dump every little thing on her as soon as she came through the door.

Seeing her wife raise an eyebrow, she realized it was too late; Stef expected details. She just hoped she wouldn't be too upset with their youngest. "None of them were budging at first…but while I was having a word with Jude, he turned on Callie and started yelling at her for 'always getting in the way,' saying that if it hadn't been for her that I wouldn't have found out. He was pretty angry with her."

She shook her head sadly. That was putting it nicely—in reality, it'd been a full blown meltdown, one that rivalled the one during their family therapy appointment. Annoyed with Jude and not having the energy or patience to deal with him in that moment, she had sent him to his room to cool down.

"Oh, honey," Stef said sympathetically, guessing that Lena had probably been beating herself up over this. "Why didn't you call me? I would've left right at the end of shift."

"I thought I could handle it, I guess," Lena confessed. "No, really," she insisted, unable to help but feel slightly self conscious at the skeptical look her wife was giving her.

"It was fine until I gave Callie what I thought was a very gentle reminder that she needed to come to me instead of trying to step in like that. She—she didn't argue with me. Actually, she was all smiles and agreed, but I'm pretty sure she's crying about it…right now," Lena said, gesturing to the very end of their backyard. Callie was sitting by their tree, head buried in her arms.

"Oh, no…

"They're going to be okay…right?" Stef asked, dismayed that not only Callie and Jude weren't getting along but that the tiniest attempts at redirection were met with a disproportionate level of anxiety from their daughter. "I'm worried about Miss Callie. She's was so sensitive last night, too," she said, remembering their discussion on Ricochet and the girl's fears that her job was dangerous.

"Me too," Lena agreed. "Gisella did say to expect things to become worse before they get better. That as the two of them become more secure in their relationship with us and receptive to the idea of adoption, their relationship will naturally reconfigure. They're not going to have to rely on each other as much."

"I guess I just hate that our children are hurting."

"Me too, Stef."

"How else was Bug's day?"

"Hard to say. She looks a little run down and didn't eat much of her lunch…all this stress is going to catch up with her," Lena said, remembering how it looked like Callie was struggling to keep down the few bites she'd taken. Several times she had asked her how she was feeling, but the girl had stubbornly maintained everything was _'fine.'_ Being thirteen, she wasn't exactly skilled at holding up a front, though.

"Hmm? Well, Callie admitted to still having withdrawal, so that's to be expected, I think. I tried to push her to talk about it last night but she was pretty dismissive. She did say that she was happy you were letting her snack, though," the cop said, smirking at her wife.

"Seriously? I am not that bad, am I?" Lena asked, offended. She resented that.

"No, no. We just have a separate cupboard of banished food for no reason," Stef teased, pecking her wife on the cheek. "Hey…what's wrong?" she questioned, noticing Lena's face fall.

"I just wish Callie and I had a better relationship," Lena admitted. "She's so guarded with me still."

There, she had said it. She had openly admitted to one of her greatest fears which had only grown since her wife came into their room last night after Callie had fallen asleep.

 _"You should've seen her. She was so sweet," Stef gushed. She had been describing how Callie had snuggled up to her after all her questions about the K9 dog she was working with._

Between spending morning and afternoon breaks, and lunch time together, Lena had gotten more face time with their daughter than ever. But after over a week of this, Callie hadn't really opened up to her. She always made polite conversation, but apart from asking for instrumental help, she shied away from most other interaction.

"That's not true at all. You two have a relationship," Stef soothed, looking into her wife's eyes as she caressed her cheek. "Didn't Gisella say that Callie and Jude's attachment to us would be different?"

"Sure. It's just that, you got further with her last night than I have all week," Lena replied, unable to hide her jealousy. Although she knew it was well-intentioned, her wife's lack of understanding and validation of her frustration was making her feel more irritated, not better. It was more of a dismissal than anything.

She began to look away, but not before Stef cradled her face between her hands.

" _Stop_. You're a good mom, Lena. That kid loves you." She didn't get why Lena was taking things so personally. "She called you 'Mama' first, remember?" she reminded.

" _No…_ she didn't," Lena huffed, turning around to return to the dishes. "She _referred_ to me as 'Mama'. She called _you_ 'Mom,' _first_. There's a difference, _Stef_." She'd been more sensitive about this topic once she realized Callie hadn't called her anything since then.

Shocked, Stef stared at her wife. This wasn't anything to get so down about. "It's the same, no—?"

"No. It's _not_ ," Lena snapped in exasperation as she began to loudly scour a pot. "Can you—can you just go talk to Jude?" she said abruptly, not wanting to continue this conversation any longer.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she heard Stef walk away, now feeling guilty for resenting her wife on top of everything else.

* * *

Callie crept in the back entrance, holding the storm door until it clicked softly into place. After making sure no one was around, she closed the main door and turned the deadbolt. Stef always harped on them to completely lock the door as soon as they came in, and she didn't want to forget.

Tucked under her arm was the small, portable stereo that the cop had showed her before. It was less than a foot long, the type where you slid the speakers into place. Safely hidden in her hoody pocket was the first cassette in the series her Mom had recorded, headphones, and a pair of D-batteries Stef had left for her beside the player.

Quickly making her way to the den off the living room, Callie slid into the leather office chair. She swivelled it around so that it's back faced the door before slouching down low so she wouldn't be seen. Holding her breath, she put in the tape, only exhaling once the robotic hum of the reel spinning kicked in.

It was funny, how things worked. Only a few weeks ago, she couldn't recall her Mom's voice. But now that she could hear her again, everything came flooding back. Details like the side her Mom always parted her hair, and the shampoo she liked to use. It was crazy that she'd ever forgotten.

She had just stopped to rewind the tape from the point where her Mom began reading, to the beginning so she could listen to the birthday greeting again when she heard a noise. Craning her neck around the chair, she noticed Jude's socked feet at the door.

 _Crap_.

"Callie?" he called, pushing the door wide open. He'd been told to find his sister and to apologize for what he'd said to her that afternoon.

"Uh—yeah, Jude. Hold on." Callie hurriedly ripped off the headphones and pushed the stereo behind her. She glowered at him, annoyed at the interruption. " _What_?"

"MOM said—" he began before realizing that Callie had something behind her. "What are you—"

His face clouded as understanding set in. "You're listening to the tape without me, aren't you?" he accused, getting upset. He couldn't believe it. First, he had had to find out in front of everyone that the possibility of listening to their Mom's voice existed because Callie had hid it. Now, she was continuing to keep it from him.

Callie froze. Truthfully, she'd been starting to consider the women as their mothers, but to hear Jude refer to Stef as his Mom in the cavalier manner he did was a shock to her system. There was no way he'd thought about the implications of that word as much as she had, yet he was acting as though he had right to hear their real Mom. And that wasn't fair—especially not since he'd decided that he wanted to have a relationship with their Dad.

"No," the girl lied. Trying to come up with something more convincing, she said, "I'm seeing if the player works…so I can play it…" It wasn't a complete untruth—she _had_ done that as a first step. Nonetheless, she kicked herself; that wasn't very good.

Jude balled his fists. "You're lying!" he exclaimed, becoming outraged at the unfairness of it all.

"Why won't you let me listen?" he demanded. His frustration was reaching a peak. Callie had been standing in his way all day and he'd gotten into trouble with both Moms because of her.

"Because it's mine! Not your's!" Callie retorted, incredulous. This was her present that belonged to her. It wasn't something she had ever shared with him and she didn't get why he expected things to be any different now.

Plus, it wasn't like she wasn't ever going to let him in on it—but she needed time with it by herself, first, before then.

"She's my Mom, too!" Jude shot back. He felt stupid at the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Callie taunted, crossing her arms. "You don't even _remember_ her!" she spat as her resentment with Jude began to unfurl.

"That's not true! I do SO remember!" Jude defended, sniffling. That his sister could be right was the source of his biggest insecurity and jealousy. Being five years older, Callie had gotten to do all of this fun stuff with Mom and make memories, well before he was able to participate. And just when he became old enough, she had died. He had missed getting to do any of that.

" _What_ , Jude? What do you remember?" In spite of seeing his hurt, she couldn't help but smile in satisfaction when he wasn't able to come up with an answer.

Infuriated, the boy lunged to grab the cassette player off the chair. Who said that he needed to wait for Callie to let him do anything?

"Give it back, Jude! It's not your's!" So focused on hiding the stereo when he'd come in, Callie was sure she hadn't turned it off and that it was still running.

"You want it back? _Fine_!"

"JUDE! _NO_!" Callie shouted, feeling a twinge of panic as her brother started pushing several buttons in series. She didn't like that he wasn't listening to her like he usually did. " _Don't_! You don't know how to do it!" she said, beginning to give chase.

Trying to dodge his sister, Jude weaved between the furniture. If he couldn't listen to it, then she couldn't either.

Desperate to get her brother to stop, Callie grabbed him as he bolted past to take refuge behind the armchair. Not expecting him to pull away from her so violently, she lost her grip. She watched in horror as Jude hit the floor hard. The stereo flew from his hands, smashing against the fireplace tile.

"Ow!" Jude complained, beginning to cry as Callie walked past him to pick up the player instead of seeing if he was okay. He had hit the corner of his hip on the desk as he fell and it was tingling.

"Now look what you've done," the older child said with an exasperated sigh. She picked up the shattered plastic case and hit eject, trying not to think about how mad their foster mothers would be when they learned it had broke.

Callie's eyes widened as she popped out the tape and saw that the reel had scrambled around the cassette.

" _No_ …," she gasped in disbelief. "No, no, no…"

It looked bad, but she didn't know to panic just yet. Gingerly, she removed the tape and the mass of black plastic until she located where it was stuck in the mechanism. Only when she tried to extricate it with a slight tug and it gave way with a snap that it sank in. The cassette was broken.

"Jude," she said in a choked whisper as tears clouded her vision. " _Jude_! How could you?

"That—that's the only thing I have left of Mom's—that's the only way I can remember her!" she told him, trying to make him understand. She'd only gotten to listen to it twice.

"Are you _HAPPY NOW? YOU'VE WRECKED IT!"_ she screeched. "She's GONE! SHE'S GONE AND IT'S YOUR _FAULT_!"

"I—I'm sorry," Jude stammered as the full gravity of what he'd done hit him.

"THAT'S THE THING. YOU'RE NOT!" she shouted, angered by his crying. She wanted to hit him. "YOU'RE _NOT_!"

Her words only caused him to become more upset. He hated it whenever his sister was mad at him. "Callie—I didn't mean to—" he tried to defend.

"GET OUT! _GET—OUT_! I don't want to see you!" Callie bawled, frustrated that Jude was making no effort to leave.

"Callie!"

"YOU HAVE YOUR OWN MOMS NOW SO WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE—MINE— _ALONE_?!" she screamed, not caring who heard her.

She knew, by the way he had flinched at her words, that it was mean—meant to carve Jude out from the relationship he so badly wanted with their Mom. It was probably the most hurtful thing she had ever said to him, but right now, she didn't care.

* * *

" _WHOAAA!_ _ENOUGH_!" Stef shouted over the siblings. Initially, she and Lena had held back, wanting to see if the kids would be able to work out the argument amongst themselves. However, they'd aborted mission and come running once the yelling escalated and they heard a loud thud.

Met with stunned silence, Lena went to help Jude up off the floor. The boy immediately buried himself in her chest as his crying increased. Callie, too, was crying, and she stood with her head bowed, not wanting to make eye contact with either of the women.

"Alright…what's going on here?" the cop demanded as she crossed her arms. Now that she had their children's attention, she alternated her gaze between the two—trying to send a message that she knew they were equally responsible for this mess.

The broken stereo player amidst the tax papers scattered all over the floor was explanation enough of what their fight had been over. However, she held back, curious if they would confide in her and Lena if they weren't pushed. Her heart fell, realizing that she was partially to blame. After all, she'd been the one who told Callie to listen to the tape anywhere but in her room until she was ready to share.

She was unimpressed, though not entirely surprised, when neither child responded.

"Callie?" Hands jammed into her hoody pocket, her daughter was visibly nervous. Trying to exercise patience, Stef cleared her throat.

"Look...Mama and I are expecting an answer from the both of you," she said sternly when the girl only shrugged.

" _Now,"_ she ordered, raising her voice slightly to motivate them to reconsider their silence. Unfortunately, it only succeeded in making her kids flinch.

Wanting to back her wife up, Lena pulled over the desk chair. She sat down, maneuvering her youngest so that he stood facing her. "Jude—

"No. You are right where you need to be right now, young man," she told him firmly when he tried to pull away.

Shocked at the admonishment, a new bout of tears rolled down Jude's cheeks. This was the second time today that he had found himself in trouble with her and Lena felt for him knowing that he was not happy about it. She thumbed away his tears, lifting his chin to make him look at her. "Eyes up here when I'm talking to you."

She willed herself to be patient as she deliberated the best way to navigate this situation. Neither Callie nor Jude were used to having adults intervening but that was something they needed to learn was going to change. They could fight, but as their parents, she and Stef would get involved as they saw fit. "Now. I'm only going to ask you this once, so I want you to think carefully before you answer. What happened?"

"Callie p— _pushed_ me!" Jude exclaimed through heaving sobs, self preservation the only thing on his mind at this point. He'd already been punished today because he had tried to ride his bike after being told not to. He wasn't going to mess up again.

He tugged down the waistband of his pants a little to show Lena where he'd hit the corner of the desk.

"Oh, no. _Ouch_ ," Lena consoled at seeing the dark scrape on his hip. It wasn't bleeding but it looked painful. "We'll put some ice on that okay?"

Seeing her daughter's face turn ashen, Stef felt her irritation spike. "Is this true? Did you push Jude?"

Callie's gaze flickered up to meet her foster mother's before falling again. She was screwed. Although that wasn't really the truth, it had been her fault that he'd fallen, the last thing she wanted was to get into more crap for lying. She just hadn't expected him to tell on her like that. In fact, this was the first time he had told on her since living at home, and he'd done so without any hesitation. Wiping her nose with her sleeve, she slowly nodded.

"Why? You know better than that, Callie…" the woman scolded.

She turned to the boy, deciding to give him a chance when her daughter kept silent. "Okay. Callie pushed you. What happened before then?"

"N—nothing," Jude lied, shaking his head to corroborate. He gave Lena a pleading look, hoping they'd believe him. He had definitely neglected to tell the whole story but did not want the women to find out about his part in all of this.

Lena narrowed her eyes, knowing better than to accept what he was telling them at face value. Kids didn't end up fighting out of the blue—at least her children never did—and both of their fidgeting was a dead giveaway.

"Jude. Remember when we talked about how being honest is always the right thing to do? Hiding something may seem like the easy way out but Mom and I do not appreciate learning about things after we give you a chance to set things straight. So I want you to think about what you're telling us, because we will find out—and we know that you will not like the consequences for that," she warned.

"Callie?" Stef tried again, bringing her attention back to her daughter.

"Nothing happened," the girl quickly replied. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to slow down to sound more convincing. "I shoved him," she added in a nearly inaudible tone. There wasn't any point in saying anything more.

The woman cocked her head. There was more to this story. "And what happened to the stereo?"

"I—It was me," Callie lied. She took a deep breath in the hopes she'd come across more confident. "I threw it. I—I'm sorry," she apologized, tearing up at knowing she was digging herself into a deeper hole. She was mad at Jude but wasn't going to throw him under the bus like he'd done to her.

Stef massaged her temple as she gave her wife a resigned look. Things weren't going the way she had hoped with both children skirting around the truth. She'd expected that it would be hard to get them to budge on the details but the lying especially confused her, and she wondered what had changed. Only last week, they'd been in Lena's office and that day, Callie and Jude had been forthcoming with them.

Knowing that the two would need to be separated if there was any hope of learning the real story, Stef refrained from further questioning.

"Alright. Callie. You go upstairs," she instructed. "Mama and I need to talk to Jude."

* * *

In Callie's rush to change into her PJs, the broken cassette fell out of her pocket onto the rug. Stunned by the reminder of the loss, she stared at it in sad disbelief before anger took over. Grabbing it, she shoved it into the back of her drawer, slamming it shut with such force that the dresser rocked. For a moment, it was satisfying—her way of saying she didn't need that tape.

It hurt to have it taken away so soon after having it returned—so much so that a part of her wished she hadn't known about its existence in the first place. As far as she was concerned, the first one—with her Mom's recorded message to her—was the most special. The rest she didn't care about as much.

Turning off the light, Callie curled onto her side to face the wall, desperately wishing for sleep. She expected that Stef and Lena would come talk to her once they finished with Jude and she felt as though there was no way she could get through it. Too worked up however, she remained wide awake. Soon, she felt the bed cave beside her and Lena's hand rubbing her back. Surprised that the woman was being nice to her even after what she'd admitted to, hot tears pricked her eyes once again.

"Honey…you and Jude are going to be just fine," Lena said softly at hearing her daughter's hiccupped cries. Callie was so upset.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, trying not to move. Although she was comforted by having Lena there, she really didn't want to talk and was hoping that if she didn't engage, Lena would leave her alone.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't have her way.

Feeling the foot of the bed sag, she realized Stef was there, too. Discouraged, she inched closer to the wall away from Lena's hand.

The women shared a weary glance. As much as Callie wanted her space, this talk was needed to ensure that the new territory was an opportunity for learning. She and Jude were free to disagree with each other—that was a normal part of having siblings. However, kindness and respect for each other were still expected. An altercation like the one they had had tonight wasn't acceptable.

"Come on. Sit up please," Lena said, patting Callie's arm. "Mom and I want to talk to you."

She was barely able to refrain from rolling her eyes when her daughter's response was to bury her face in her pillow. "That wasn't a request, sweetheart. The faster we do this, the sooner you can go to sleep," she encouraged.

"Go away…" the girl whined. If it wasn't a request, Lena shouldn't have said they _wanted_ to talk to her. She had a feeling, however, that now wasn't a good time to point that out.

" _Now_ , Callie. I am not going to tell you again," Lena said in a firm but gentle tone.

Callie groaned in annoyance. " _Fine!_ " She ran the back of her hand across her nose before dragging herself out from beneath the covers. " _Happy_?" she mumbled, avoiding looking at either of her foster mothers.

"I am. Thank you," Lena replied patiently. She wasn't going to let that get to her.

"I'm sorry that you and Jude fought," she empathized, shocked to see how red and puffy her daughter's face was. "Oh, honey…are you okay?"

Callie nodded. She didn't need their sympathy. "It's not a big deal," she said hoarsely.

"Of course it is—"

"—Can we just get this over with?" the girl snapped in irritation, forgetting that Stef was right there until she heard her clear her throat.

The cop levelled a scathing look at Callie, deciding it'd be best if she took over. Their daughter did not respect her wife, period. "Is this really how you want to start this conversation?" she questioned rhetorically as the girl shook her head.

"I didn't think so. So if I were you, I'd lose that attitude. You are not in trouble right now but if you keep this up, that can change," Stef castigated.

Sulking at being told off, Callie watched as Stef got up and crossed one leg underneath before sitting down. She drew in a shaky breath, nervous about what Jude had told them. She had definitely said some things to him that she knew the women would not react well to if they were to find out.

"What happened tonight? It's not like you to get so upset with Jude that you resort to pushing—which, by the way, we appreciate you telling us," Stef began as Callie lowered her head.

"I do think you know that that's not how we solve our problems in this house when we get angry. However, I don't think you would have behaved in that way without a reason."

Based on how readily Jude had volunteered his side of the story and Callie's passive, despondent acceptance—Stef had suspected the truth lay somewhere in the middle. There were holes in Jude's account of what had taken place; he had maintained full innocence, saying he only wanted to listen to the tape and that his sister had shoved him for no reason.

"It's not important," Callie replied in hushed resignation, all signs of defiance gone as she brushed away a stray tear.

"Of course it is, love. That you are upset it important to Mama and I," the woman coaxed. "We want to help but can't if you're not willing to be transparent with us."

"There was no reason," the girl insisted. "I…I just got mad and pushed him, okay?"

"I know you were angry," Lena sympathized, recalling part of the exchange she and Stef had heard. "But Mom is right. You know better than to get physical. _If_ something was happening that you did not like, you should have come and gotten one of us. Understood?" It was unlikely that Callie would budge on their story but she hoped her daughter might pick up on the hint that neither she nor Stef believed that they were being told the truth.

Stef nodded. "Mama and I wanted to talk to you about something you said to Jude—something we overheard you tell him that probably hurt his feelings," she quickly added.

It was a lie. They hadn't overheard the exact comment; rather, Jude had told them. However, the last thing the women wanted was for Callie to be more upset with the boy for telling on her, adding more strain to their relationship. "Do you have any idea what that might be?" she inquired, offering her daughter a chance to take responsibility.

Callie gave the cop a guilty look. She sorta knew what Stef was alluding to, but there was no way she planned to admit to anything until she was absolutely certain that that was what her foster mother was referring to.

"Are you sure?" Stef questioned as the girl fidgeted under her gaze. This was important enough that she was willing to let her be uncomfortable for a little while longer.

"Um. Yeah," Callie stammered. Her face was beginning to burn from the lie.

Lena smiled sadly to herself. She understood that for the siblings, the fight—though relatively benign—was a watershed moment they were deeply upset about and processing. Thinking what it meant for them. Still, she was discouraged that Callie refused to confide in them.

"Sweetheart…you insinuated that because Jude doesn't remember your Mom, that she isn't his Mom," Lena said sternly. "Did you or did you not?" she asked, annoyed when Callie gave a small shrug.

She had been livid when Jude had eventually disclosed what Callie had said. It'd taken a while to piece together; their son had been inconsolable, clinging to Stef as he repeatedly tried to communicate through gut-wrenching sobs. _"Mom! Mom!"_

"You are to apologize to Jude first thing tomorrow. Do you hear me?" Lena said, making their expectation clear.

"We do not use hurtful language like that in our family—and that especially was uncalled for," Stef added. "I don't want to find out that you taunted Jude in that way again."

"You can't tell me how to talk to him!" Callie huffed.

Stef gasped, though more out of amusement than incredulousness at her daughter's naïveté.

"No! You _can't_ tell me how to talk to Jude!" Callie argued, indignant at her foster mother's reaction. Frustrated, she kicked in Stef's direction from under the blanket. This was so stupid—it wasn't their place. Plus, she had been the one who had raised him. Not them!

She quailed somewhat when Stef caught her foot and gave her a look that told her she'd gone too far.

"Stop. We don't do that," the cop ordered, raising her voice to meet Callie's. "It's okay to disagree but we still expect you to be respectful."

"Hey. _Stop_..." she tried again more gently when she felt the girl withdraw her foot, presumably to launch another kick at her. The mere thought of another tantrum tonight was overwhelming.

Her stubborn child responded by folding her arms across her chest and glowering at her.

"Well it's _true_ ," Callie responded with attitude. "You can't—"

"And why not?" Stef challenged.

"Because…he's _my_ brother!"

It was such a genuine response that it was comical. To keep herself from laughing, the cop purposely avoided making eye contact with Lena. Her wife, also motivated to keep composure, had gotten up in a hurry to adjust the curtains.

"Jude is your brother," Stef validated, taking Lena's spot beside the girl. "And you're right, Mama and I cannot control what you say to him. But the same rule of using kind and respectful language when speaking to others—anyone—still applies, Cal. That was a low blow, kiddo, and we're disappointed that you chose to talk to him in that way."

Callie felt her stomach knot up at hearing those words. She hated when she was a disappointment, yet somehow she'd managed to do it again and add to their regret. "Sorry. I'll stop," she said softly, rubbing away the tears that pricked her eyes. "I'll apologize to Jude."

It discouraged her that Stef and Lena were siding with him, but she knew there wasn't much she could do about it. Not if she wanted to keep living here, anyway.

"Sorry..." Callie whispered once more.

"Honey," Stef murmured, taken aback by the fresh batch of tears flooding the girl's cheeks. Her heart ached at the child's insecurity. It had been such a minor scolding—they had barely raised their voices, and the only consequence was for Callie to apologize to her brother.

"No, no…don't do that, love," she said, gently grabbing the girl's hand away from her face. Callie had gone to run her pyjama sleeve against her nose. She cringed as her daughter sucked in loudly; no matter how many times she and Lena had explained that would only make the congestion worse, the habit was well-ingrained.

"Are you—are you still mad at me?" Callie asked as her breath hitched. It was a question directed at no one in particular; just something she wanted to know.

From across the room, Stef exchanged a concerned look with her wife, worried by the complete shift in the girl's demeanour.

"What? No, lovebug. Mama and I are mostly frustrated and a little confused that you shoved Jude and about what you said to him," the cop said honestly. "And while we're not exactly happy with your attitude tonight, I think we can all agree that that was a bit out of character for you two…we'll help you smooth things over with him tomorrow, okay?"

"'Kay."

The women watched as Callie wrapped her comforter around her and curled back onto her side. Her way of telling them she was done engaging.

"Do you not want to head down for bedtime snack?" Lena asked.

Callie's polite decline was muffled by her pillow. "No thank you. I'm full from dinner."

The cop sighed as she smoothed Callie's hair. She and Lena had just gone through the same thing with Jude earlier. "You know that even if you're not hungry we expect you to show, yes?" she tried gently, not wanting to push their daughter too much.

"I know. I just want to be alone. Please?" Callie begged.

Stef gave her wife a tired glance. They would let things slide this one time. It was only fair, since they'd allowed Jude to skip, too. "Just for tonight, okay Bug? We expect you there tomorrow."

The girl nodded before pulling the covers over her head. "'Kay."

"Can we bring you anything? Tuck you in?" Lena asked.

"No thanks," came the dejected reply.

She didn't want them right now.


	40. Monsters that Appear in the Night

**Author Note:**

Hope this one turned out alright; I did some experimenting. IUW's draft is complete and ends just shy of 50 chapters. Expect updates to stall as I adjust to a new life at home (I just came home yesterday with a brand new babe!), but there is enough done that I'm hopeful I'll return to my routine soon. Next couple updates are nearly post-ready. Do send messages of encouragement! My responses haven't been great recently but I so appreciate hearing from all of you. ~b'shert

 **Please read this chapter with care. There's a scene that includes graphic description of child abuse.** It was a late addition that helped lay a stronger foundation to carry the storyline.

* * *

 **Chapter 38:** Monsters that Appear in the Night

Callie let the tears slip over the bridge of her nose and into the pillow as she listened to the rest of the family downstairs. Every so often, there'd be laughter amidst the sound of cutlery against dishes and indistinct voices and she wondered what they were having or talking about. They sounded happy and a part of her wished she hadn't turned down the bedtime snack.

She missed them. _Sorta_ …

Her discouragement peaked as she considered everything that'd gone wrong. Although she'd been told off here and there, things had been better in recent weeks. They would discuss whatever it was—like when she had walked out of the family session and swore at Stef—and the women hadn't seemed too upset.

This time, though, she had really messed up. Not only were Stef and Lena disappointed for what had happened with Jude, she had taken more of the blame that what she'd actually been responsible for—saying she had broken the stereo.

It wasn't that it was out of the ordinary. Whenever Jude was in a situation where he would likely face the wrath of an adult, she never hesitated to step in. As his older sister, she simply accepted that she needed to look out for him.

What bugged her was that he had never taken it for granted. Not until today.

Fear crept up her spine at the memory of what had happened when she'd once taken the fall for something Jude had started. Her mind wandered to the possibility of facing a similar consequence as she drifted off, but she talked herself down.

Stef and Lena weren't like that.

They were good people.

They were kind.

 _Safe…_

 _She felt a tug on her sleeve reminding her that she wasn't alone. "Val gonna punish you?" Jude piped up._

 _"Ugh. Jude! How am I supposed to know?" she snapped. Although, she did—all of them knew what happened if you ended up in the room at the back of the house. Mostly, she was annoyed that he had followed her._

 _After their foster mother discovered what they had done, she'd been brought here and told to wait._

 _"Oh…" her brother said softly, making her feel guilty. She reminded herself that she wouldn't be in this mess had it not been for him._

 _Callie dropped her head before giving him a forced smile. "You know what, Bud? It's going to be okay," she said brightly as she gave his sweaty hand a squeeze. He was only four—practically a baby—and she didn't want to be mad at him._

 _"Just go with Lindsay, okay?" she said, referring to one of the girls who also lived there. The last thing she wanted was for him to be there when their foster mother got back. In case she changed her mind about punishing him, too. Jude studied her face, deciding if he believed her, before grinning. "Okay!" he said, taking off. She felt a bit of pride when he left, knowing Lindsay would take care of him. It was something they'd done together before when the other boy was in trouble. Neither of them wanting Jude to hear._

 _The butterflies in her stomach took flight as soon as the woman came in and the door clicked shut. There was the sound of drawer contents being rummaged through in the adjoining bathroom before Val came out and stood before her._

 _"You're getting a little too comfortable here, Callie Jacob. It's been less than a month and you're already proving that you are more trouble than you're worth."_

 _"I—I'm sorry. It was an accident..." Callie apologized, not daring to look up. Eye contact only ever seemed to make things worse. Val was different from Jeanine…she didn't beat them, but would punish them over everything—even small mistakes, like forgetting to switch the laundry quick enough, or leaving a dish out on the counter. A wet towel out on the bed. Last week, she'd been taken to the bathroom to have her mouth washed out with soap. All because she'd "been fresh" but in reality, she had been answering a question. It hadn't been a pleasant experience and she doubted this would be, too. The woman looked pretty angry._

 _Her stomach churned when she saw the bath brush Val was slapping against her palm._

 _This was going to suck._

 _"It won't happen again," Callie offered. As if somehow that would make her foster mother less angry than she already was._ _Suddenly feeling like she needed to pee, she clamped her legs shut and took a step back._

 _Stupid Jude. If only he'd listened to her—if only she'd refused to give in—the door wouldn't have broke._

 _"No. It won't. Because I'm going to remind you what happens when you act up in this house."_

 _The woman tapped the side of her leg with the edge of the_ _brush_ _. "These are going to need to come down," she said emotionlessly._

 _Shame crept up Callie's neck and face. Her Mom had never asked her to pull down her pants like that. In fact, it wasn't until foster care that she was asked to expose herself. But after her experience with Jeanine, she was not going to argue with anyone who'd be hitting her. She swallowed, briefly looking up at the woman._

 _"You heard me."_

 _Tears welled up in Callie's eyes as she_ _resigned herself to obedience_ _. Fumbling with the button on her corduroys, she pulled them down just below her hips so the front of the pants_ _still gave her some privacy._

 _The woman shook her head. "All the way down. Save your tears—you're going to_ _be crying a lot more when I'm done with you_ _," she said as Callie began to sniffle. She led her to the bed by the arm before bending her over the side. "Lean over—flat on your stomach._ _Don't move._ _"_

 _Legs nearly buckling at the directive, Callie shuffled over and did as she was told. As she laid down on the bedspread, she realized that the vibrant floral print was completely oxymoronic to this situation. She closed her eyes and braced herself as the wood tapped against her skin, sending a shiver up her back._

 _"Hands up front. Keep still or I'll start over," Val instructed, lifting the brush quickly before resting it against her a few more times._

 _Unprepared for the first stroke, Callie flinched at the benign pop of the paddle against her skin, which left behind an immediate sting that made her gasp. It shocked her that something so small could hurt that much. Not wanting to give her foster mother the satisfaction of seeing her become upset, she drew her entire lip into her mouth and gripped the bedspread._ _However, it wasn't long until the discomfort built up to an unbearable level and she began to cry steadily—shifting her weight from foot to foot._

 _"STAY STILL, CALLIE—get that bottom out," the woman ordered. "Let this be a lesson to you! You deserve every single one…" she said as the implement came down in quick succession._

 _Desperate for reprieve, Callie threw her hands back and brought her feet all the way up for protection. This hurt way more than she'd thought it would._

 _"What did I say about staying in position?" Val barked. The woman forced her legs down before landing a series of hard slaps on the back of each thigh, causing her to wail._

 _She fought to catch her breath as she watched her foster mother walk over to the window blinds. This was not over._

 _"V—Val, please, n—no!" she begged, hoping to change her mind somehow. Panic was beginning to set in. "I—I'm sorry—I—l—learned my lesson!"_

 _"Turn over and give me your hand."_

 _"Val…" she pled, shaking her head as she rolled onto her side. Her foster mother was becoming more enraged by the second._

 _"YOUR HAND, CALLIE! You will be a sorry little girl if I have to do it for you!"_

 _Angered that she was taking too long, the woman grabbed her by the wrist. "Open up."_

 _Callie howled as the rod hit her palm. It felt like she had put her hand on a hot stove element._

 _"Other one!"_

 _Knowing that Val was getting frustrated, Callie was quicker to begin to comply this time...but fear got the better of her and she instinctively clenched her hand closed at the last second. As she shoved her knuckles into her mouth to soothe them,_ _her foster mother easily forced her back onto her stomach. Her knees slammed against the metal frame in the process, causing her to freeze._

 _She whimpered as she felt the woman's hand pin her down hard, forcing her lower back into an arch. At this point, she could no longer control her cries which had become high-pitched and juvenile. Nor did she care who heard her._

 _"I am nowhere near done with you. You're an ungrateful—insolent—naughty child—and you are not going to be able to sit comfortably when I am through with you," Val told her as the paddling resumed in its unrelenting rhythm. "You only have yourself to blame for this."_

 _When it was over, Callie lay there, convulsing for breath and retching on thickened saliva. She didn't bother to resist when the woman got her up and dragged her back to the corner. She hurt all over._

 _"You'd better think twice before you pull something like that again. Next time, a paddling will be the least of your worries. It will be the belt, do you hear me?"_

 _Callie nodded, doing everything she could think of so that the woman would stop being mad and go away._

 _The only things on her mind were how she would leave the room and face the others._

 _If Jude had heard, and if so, how she'd explain._

* * *

She woke up drenched in cold sweat.

Daylight was seeping into the dim room from the seams where the blinds didn't quite meet, and she couldn't figure out why it was earlier than what her body was telling her. She startled when she felt a clammy hand slip into her's. _Jude._

"Hi," he said in his wheedling voice.

"Hey, buddy." She kissed the top of his head and tousled his hair; she wasn't annoyed with him anymore. They were so lucky to have each other.

"Why are we here?" she asked, alarmed as she looked around. The bed was the same and she could hear footsteps in the hall, getting closer.

Jude stared at her, confusion painted all over his face. "We live here," he said sweetly with a shrug of his shoulders. "You're in trouble 'cause, the door— _remember_?"

She spun around as the door opened and knocked against the wall.

 _Stef_.

* * *

The cop became increasingly concerned as she watched Callie toss and turn. She and Lena had dealt with their share of night terrors and had their own tried and true methods to soothe each of their children back to sleep. This time, though, she was having a lot of difficulty rousing her daughter.

Judging by how upset Callie had been that evening, they had predicted a rough night—so much so that they'd kept the hallway light on and the door to the girls bedroom open. Their youngest daughter hadn't minded. Worried, they stayed up until Callie's sniffling subsided and she succumbed to sleep. However, neither were surprised when Mariana woke them up, promptly usurping Stef's side of the bed while the cop went to tend to Callie.

"Wake up for me, love. C'mon, sweetness. It's time to wake up," the cop murmured as she used one hand to firmly rub Callie's back. She draped a towel over the bedside lamp to dim it before removing the layers of bedding to try and wake her daughter.

The snippets of conversation that Callie was unknowingly letting her in on were nonsensical. However, the girl's distress was evident. Her breathing was laboured, and intermittent whimpering had been replaced by what appeared to be one long scream where no sound was coming out.

"Hey, you're okay—" she comforted when Callie sat up with a jolt. "You're okay. It was just a nightmare."

Her relief quickly dissipated when she saw the expression of perplexed horror on the girl's face.

" _Callie_ …" Stef kept her voice down. If this was a night terror, the sleep-to-wake transition would need to be gradual to avoid frightening her even more.

Her daughter stared straight through her, telling her that she was still half-dreaming.

"I didn't do it, you have to believe me," Callie said with desperation in her voice. "I don't know who but it wasn't me who broke it, I swear!"

"Callie… _hey,_ " Stef tried again, her tone a little more forceful this time. Hoping that physical contact might help her come to, she reached out and squeezed Callie's hands reassuringly. "What's broken?"

The girl shook her head as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. "No! I _didn't_! Not this time! Someone else did it."

"I believe you, honey. You didn't do it. You didn't break it," Stef affirmed.

"I learned my lesson from last time," the girl rambled on in a small voice, not hearing her. "I wouldn't do that again."

The cop's stomach churned thinking of what Callie might be alluding to. "What, love?"

She had a sinking feeling that whatever the night terror was about had been based on true events. And though she and Lena had always known it'd be a matter of time before they learned from their children how previous caregivers had dealt with them, it didn't make it any easier to stomach the truth.

"I know. I know…" she soothed, wanting to alleviate the girl's fears. Although Callie would most likely not have full recollection of her dream when she woke, she couldn't stand to see her this afraid.

"I promise I'm going to do better, just not that!" Callie begged as her voice rose an octave. A last ditch effort on her part to change the woman's mind. "Anything but that. I—I don't want that!"

Her heart in her throat from the words her daughter had uttered, Stef braced herself. Steadying her breath, she asked, "Want what, honey?"

The answer came in the form of the girl's hands immediately going to the waistband of her pyjama pants.

"No one's going to hurt you," the woman vowed. "You're safe here." She was trying not to cry as her mind wandered to what Callie's experience could've been. None of the possibilities were good.

"But it's broken," Callie whimpered. Something was up with this lady; she was not listening to her.

"Can you tell me what is it that's broken?" Stef asked again, thinking it might be better to go along with the narrative to ease her daughter out of her delirium.

Due to mumbling speech, the response was difficult to decipher. She was able to eventually make out " _hinge_ ", " _door_ ", and " _not closing_ "—before remembering what Bill had mentioned about the kids having damaged something in one of their placements.

"Callie. Callie. Listen to me. The door is fine, I just checked it a couple hours ago. It's not broken—" she began. Now that she knew the root of her daughter's distress, she knew exactly what needed to be addressed.

The girl shook her head in frustration. "—No, it is! I s—saw it."

"Okay. Okay. You saw that it was broken?" Stef relented, wondering what else could be tried.

Her heart broke as a small sob wracked Callie's body. "How about, you show me what happened—I mean, show me where," She was grateful when her daughter nodded and jumped out of bed. Callie took her hand, doing a sleepy shuffle down the hall as she led the woman to the front door.

It was eerie and on more than one occasion, Stef had to stop herself from intervening. Sleepwalking was absolutely terrifying to her. This was how kids ended up blocks away from home without parents even aware that they'd left their beds. In methodical fashion, Callie hopped up on tiptoes to undo the top latch—the one she had precisely installed when the kids were small to prevent them from leaving the house during episodes like this one—before unlocking the deadbolt.

"See," Callie insisted, opening the door to point to the area between the hinges.

Stef squinted as she flicked on the entryway lights. _No, she did not see._ She knelt down beside Callie in the doorway, not caring if the neighbours across the street saw her in her bedhead glory. Parenting was not for the fainthearted.

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary…" she said honestly. "I'm going to take your hand and we can check it out together, okay?" She grasped her daughter's hand in her's and gently grazed her fingers down the edge and across the hardware, being careful to avoid slivers. "See? Perfectly fine." Relief washed over her as she noticed Callie's eyes slowly begin to focus and adjust to the light. She was coming to.

"You need to wake up now, honey," she called louder, shaking Callie. "You're having a dream. It's time to wake up." Somewhat paranoid that the girl might run off, she kept her arms at the ready.

Callie rubbed her eyes. It felt like she'd gotten sand in them. Confused as to why the front door had been left wide open, she looked around. Realizing it was pitch black outside, she took a step backward into her home. "Stef?" she called out groggily, her voice coming out more quietly than she intended. "You didn't shut the door!" The cop had a nightly routine of checking all doors and windows to make sure they were locked up and she had obviously forgotten, big time.

It wasn't until she spun around that she saw her foster mother crouched beside her. "You always check everything—I can't believe you forgot—" Callie mumbled. She stopped as she became aware of the moisture on her cheeks and her mouth twisted in mid-cry. Suddenly, she had an idea of how they'd ended up here. Her pounding heart and glassy throat were good clues.

" _Mom_?!" Disoriented, she placed her arms around the woman and clung to her. She was the safest person she had right now.

" _Callie!_ " the cop gasped. She pushed her daughter away momentarily and held her at arm's length—to confirm she really was lucid—before reciprocating. "I'm here, baby. It's okay. It was only a bad dream."

"Nightmare, Mom," Callie hiccupped, beginning to cry all over again as shame burned her cheeks. Although she couldn't remember what the the threat had been in the first place, her body was still telling her it was nearby. Waiting, and ready to swallow her whole.

"Oh, sweetness…I know…I'm so sorry," Stef consoled. "But you're not there anymore. You're safe."

Accepting that her daughter was not going to let go of her anytime soon, she mustered up the strength to hoist the both of them up from the floor.

Embarrassed to find herself being carried but too exhausted to want to do anything about it, Callie leaned against Stef. Eventually, she burrowed her head in the woman's neck—taking solace in the muffled sounds of the door being secured and Stef's whispered reassurances amidst steady footsteps.

* * *

"You need to try and get some sleep. Otherwise, you're not going to be able to get up tomorrow," Stef practically begged. Callie's eyelids had been starting to droop but she was fighting to stay awake, probably because she was afraid of another nightmare. "Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere," she said, trying to ease her daughter's fears as she wrapped an arm around her.

They were on the couch sharing a fleece throw, Callie snug up against her side. The foyer light was off but she'd left the kitchen and den lights on so it wasn't pitch black. They'd been sitting together for almost an hour but Callie had remained awake. So, she had been making a mental _to do_ list—the first item on which consisted of moving the latch to the very top of the door frame in case any of her children sleepwalked again.

"How about some hot chocolate? Hmm?" she pressed when Callie declined. "No? Not even with marshmallows?" Lena would disapprove if the girl fell asleep with unbrushed teeth but it was nearly three-thirty in the morning and with work looming, Stef was desperate.

Callie smirked at her. "You're gonna put stuff in it to make me tired."

Stef dropped her jaw in surprise. "I wouldn't do _that_!

"My baby. Much too clever for her own good," she fussed, placing a kiss atop Callie's head. She reached into the basket beside the couch for a heavier blanket and placed it over them, hoping that the warmth would increase drowsiness. "Can I do anything for you, love?"

She thought she might melt when Callie looked up at her with big eyes. "Can you pull my PJ legs over my feet?" she asked, swiping her right foot over the cuff of her left pant leg. Her feet were cold and itched against the upholstery.

"I don't know…that's going to depend on how much they stink," she teased as she leaned over to yank the pant cuffs over her daughter's oversized feet, so that only her toes poked out. "How's that?"

"Good," Callie replied through a yawn.

"Alright. Let's get this over you." Stef straightened the blankets as Callie brought her legs up closer to her body so that she was now fully covered.

"Do you remember what your nightmare was about?"

"Sorta," Callie whispered, comforted by the woman's hand caressing her hair. It hadn't been very long since she'd woken up and her memory of the events were foggy. However, she did remember being back in that room as footsteps approached and feeling confused when it was Stef who showed up.

In the silence that followed, Stef worried she'd upset her daughter; Callie had pushed herself away, making her think she was being rejected. But it turned out that she only wanted a pillow, which she put onto her lap before settling back onto her side. Wanting to prevent the girl's hair from getting too matted, she diligently pulled the strands out from under her neck.

This time, she waited awhile before proceeding again. To see how far Callie would let her go.

"Something that happened before?" she ventured, continuing to stroke her daughter's hair.

"Kinda…but not really," Callie admitted as she fingered the label on the edge of the cushion. She shrugged, unsure how to explain. "It felt real though," she said shyly, still embarrassed by the sleepwalking.

"It always does, doesn't it?" Stef empathized. She had anticipated this level of disorientation with the night terror; Callie was far more likely to recall the visceral memories over actual content. She just wanted to get a gauge of how much was recallable so she didn't stir things up that the girl wasn't able to access yet. "Do you remember if it took place somewhere you'd been before?"

Callie nodded. "Yeah. At this one home me and Jude used to live…but then you were there." She frowned, wondering how much she wanted to share. Wrapped up warm with the dim light filtering into the room, head against the woman's thigh, reminded her nothing bad could happen, though.

"There were two others like us there—being fostered, I mean. Her real name was Val…but we, uh…called her Rigid Coleridge because she was really mean to us."

The cop smiled sadly as Callie shuffled around to grab her hand, bringing her whole arm down with it to snake around her upper body. It was uncomfortable but she dared not move out of the hug the girl was helping herself to. She knew Callie wouldn't be doing that if she didn't need the security.

Callie inhaled a shaky breath, finding her courage before being able to go on.

"We'd get slapped around a lot, if we didn't listen quick enough or made a mess. Like tracking mud on the floor or forgetting to wipe up after a bath, or if we broke something."

Stef held her tongue; she could say many things about this, none of which would be helpful nor appropriate. "How do you mean, Cal?" she pressed in as neutral a tone she could manage to encourage her to go on.

"Oh, you know, she'd hit us in the face or pinch our leg if we did something she didn't like," Callie replied in a horrifyingly nonchalant way. "We'd get a spanking if she was really mad."

"Jude was four, maybe?" Callie sighed. "He still peed the bed everyday...I'd try to clean up before, before she woke up, but sometimes I couldn't wake up in time. Or, he'd wet them again. And…if the sheets were wet when she checked she'd, uhm…you know the plastic stick from the blind?" She bit her lip, distressed by the memory of how Jude would start crying even before their foster mother could order him to strip. How it'd make her angrier because he wouldn't listen and now she was late for work. "She'd get that down and hit him with it."

The cop could only shake her head as she listened. The thought of a preschooler being punished for something that was a natural part of growing up and completely out of their control really threw her for a loop.

"Did you…?" she began, though she knew what the answer likely was. "Listen, honey. I'm here for you if you're ready to share but you don't have to tell me anything you're uncomfortable with," she reminded, making sure to give Callie permission to back out if she needed to.

The girl's expression became serious. "I know. I want to." She'd only been hesitating because she was remembering some of what had been going through her mind after her fight with Jude. Before she'd fallen asleep.

"Yeah. I used to get hit, too," she answered casually, not wanting Stef to be sad. "Just sometimes. There was a spare room we had to go into if we were going to get it."

The first time she'd found herself there, she had been grateful for privacy. However, she soon learned that it didn't make much of a difference. The room was at the very back of the house; its window looked out onto the backyard and beyond that was a busy road—meaning that no one with any power to help them could hear them. That was terrifying. At the same time, everyone else in the house could hear what was going on, and that awareness always took her shame to a new level. She knew for sure, because she could always hear when one of the others was in the room.

Stef waited with bated breath as she fought to maintain her composure. Stories of abuse were routine at work…but it was always different when it was your own children. She couldn't just de-personalize this.

"She wouldn't lock us in there like the guy at one home did," Callie reassured, seeing the confusion on her foster mother's face. "But she'd make us pull our pants down and everything," she recounted, sniffling.

"Oh, Cal…I'm so sorry, baby," the cop whispered, choking back her own tears. She really wanted to be strong for her daughter but was finding it difficult.

There was a long silence again before she felt comfortable enough to continue. "Mom?"

"Yes, my Bug?" Stef answered, contending with the experience of having her heart break and soar at the same time.

"One of the boys got the belt, but he was really bad. I never got that there. I was pretty good there," Callie said with pride.

"Oh my God…" Stef said softly, unable to stop herself from correcting her daughter. " _Callie,_ my love…people are not good or bad. We talked about this. How—" She stopped to extricate her hand from the girl's grasp so she could tap her on the chest. "— _worth_ is inside _all_ of us. Good or bad behaviour does not touch _this."_ She'd repeat herself until she was hoarse. Until Callie believed her so they could rewrite the narrative.

"And I don't know, or frankly, _care_ what she said to you and Jude. But you are not bad. Jude is not bad. It's not wrong to wet a bed or make accidents, or to forget things," she whispered fiercely. She did not want Callie to harbour any confusion about what had taken place.

"A spanking is supposed to be for discipline, like what you told me your Mom would do if you misbehaved. It's done in the hope of teaching you something for your own good—to keep you safe, or help you be better in some way. It is _not_ , Callie—it is _not_ an avenue for someone to hurt you, or take out their anger and frustration on you. Because you inconvenienced them. I do not want you to think for a second that what happened to you and Jude in that home was okay or acceptable, or in any way deserved.

"This was _wrong_. It was so wrong, my love, and shouldn't have happened. I—I need you to tell me that you know that," she begged as she stroked Callie's cheek with her thumb.

Once again, Callie turned to look over her shoulder at the woman. It sounded a little bit like what her mother might have said if she were still around. "I know. Mama didn't do that and you didn't hurt me like that either," she said, not sure why it was being brought up again. She felt like she'd already reassured the cop.

Even without anyone telling them, she and Jude had always known that they'd been mistreated by their other caregivers. She had never once confused that with the actions of their Mom or Stef, though. They weren't abusive. She knew this because she didn't fear them in the same way.

It's wasn't like in previous homes where they had to quickly learn to be careful and to be afraid.

Where there were no moments of safety like the ones she had with Stef or Lena.

Where, if people _were_ being nice, it was because there were visitors or Bill or a teacher around. And they knew that once the others went away, the kind voices of their foster parents would too.

Gutted by what her daughter had divulged, Stef leaned over her. She hugged her protectively and placed a kiss on her temple. "I am so sorry," she whispered. "I cannot imagine what that must have been like for you two and I wish someone could've been there to stop it."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I thought it'd never get better. That no one would come."

The cop felt like someone had grabbed her by the throat. "I'm so sorry," she squeaked out, not sure what to say.

Callie snuggled against Stef's palm. ""I'm happy we don't have to live there anymore." Things were good here.

"Me too, baby. Me too."

* * *

 _"_ _At_ _the start of each shift, unit commanders must notify Payroll with a complete written list of employees eligible for shift and/or special assignment pay. Unit commanders (sworn or civilian) or another designated authority will review for accuracy by his/her signature and rank. Unit commanders must also indicate any changes in staffing to each employee's supervisor via completion of the Department's Transfer/Promotion Approval Forms. Failure to indicate staffing changes will impact the employee(s) from having his/her timecard approved and processed."_

Feeling the girl slump against her, Stef stopped reading momentarily to listen for deep, steady breaths. Callie had stubbornly staved off sleep for another hour. Finally, after getting her to accept a cup of steamed milk, the cop had declared she had "work" to do. It'd been a ruse, of course; not knowing what else to try, she'd decided to read out loud in a last ditch effort to bore the child into a slumber. Reaching into the magazine rank, she'd fished out the most mundane piece of material in there—a printout of the San Diego Police Department's payroll procedures, which she had been asked to review since starting irregular shifts and doing more overtime.

Not wanting to take any chances, she continued to recite the text in a quiet, monotonous voice. _"If an Overtime Authorization Request is submitted in any pay period other than the one in which the work was assigned, a signed memo by the commanding officer must be attached. Employees must code their timecard as 'Overtime premium' or 'Overtime straight' using the type box. They must indicate pay or compensatory time by using the following…"_

Satisfied that Callie was finally asleep, she put the manual aside and carefully repositioned so she could lean against the couch arm. Digging out her phone from beneath the cushion, she pressed the home button to check the time. _04:39_. She groaned; tomorrow—or rather, today—was going to be rough.

She wondered, as she thought of Callie's pattern of disrupted sleep, if their family doctor might consider prescribing a nighttime aid. Her hope evaporated when she realized it would be impossible to get the girl through an appointment, let alone cajole her into taking any medication. The kids didn't have much rapport with their GP. Because of this, she and Lena were still in the phase of bringing Callie and Jude in mostly for _just-because_ type appointments—so they had opportunities to see doctors as being separate from medical procedures and negative events. The hope was that when they did need to go in for an appointment, it would be more routine. Less daunting.

Stef's worries only continued to bubble as she observed the girl in her slumber. Callie's lips were slightly parted, showing how chapped they were and making her question if she wasn't doing as well as she and Lena wanted to believe. They had, on occasion, caught her picking her lips. Each time, they had been careful not to make Callie feel as though she was doing anything wrong in favour of just monitoring things.

It made her wonder how much of a toll the transition into their home was having on her daughter. She was, however, relieved that Callie was opening up about past experiences.

Not wanting to disturb the girl so soon after being lulled to sleep, Stef clamped a hand over her mouth to hold in her cries.

 _"_ I wish we'd gotten you two right away," Stef whispered tearfully as she thought of how small the children had been when the abuse had happened. Pragmatically, she understood that none of this was her and Lena's fault. But the guilt and self-doubt over their past decisions were less forgiving.

So focused on settling Mariana and Jesus, they had let their fostering license expire for years until they were ready to renew. Meanwhile, Callie and Jude had been foisted into care, waiting for a family. They had needed them—more than she and Lena had needed that time to feel ready.

It was the _could haves_ that were painful.

 _They could've welcomed Callie and Jude into their home earlier…_

 _They could've ended the cycle of repeated placements and removals…_

 _They could've spared them from years of abuse…_

 _They could've prevented some of this_ _damage_ _…_


	41. Where it all Begins to Unravel

**Author Note:**

Here I am, updating at night again :)

This chapter has been a long time in the making. Many of you have asked if Moms will ever discover that Callie overheard them arguing, as well as details about the fight between Callie and Jude. I don't want to give away too much, but will say that both of those events are connected and will be revisited. The next couple chapters will see Callie begin to take greater risks in opening up to Stef and Lena. She will be brave enough to bring up some aspects of the altercation she and Jude had, but will also be cautious—telling them things she feels she has no choice but to share. It should all make sense soon.

Enjoy! ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 39:** Where it all Begins to Unravel

 _Jesse reflects on his feelings in the days after Leslie's death and how she has changed him._

 _"She had tricked him._

 _She had made him leave his old self behind and come into her world,_

 _and then before he was really at home in it but too late to go back,_

 _she had left him stranded there-like an astronaut wandering about on the moon._

 _Alone." [Ch 12, p. 114]_

 _What do you think Jesse means? Why do you think he feels this way?_

Callie did a double take as she read the question on the Bridge to Terabithia worksheet, which was due this week. Her heart sank as she turned to the right page. The offending prose had been circled several times in pencil by whoever had had it last, as if to rub things in. Lately, it'd been easier to forget her betrayed feelings, but reading that had struck a chord.

Trying to shake it off, Callie scanned the paragraphs before and after the one referenced to come up with content for her answer. Having a hard time, she pushed it aside and briefly considered waiting for Stef to come home to get her help.

She kicked herself for even thinking about it. Used to having Stef and Lena around, it had been hard not to warm up to them. Still, she resented that they had made her want to rely on them before pulling the rug out from beneath her. Just as she was starting to trust them and become comfortable enough to let go of whatever she'd been hanging on to, they had decided they weren't so sure anymore. She had been so much of a disappointment that it'd caused Stef to regret having her. To wish the police had taken her away so she would no longer be their problem.

At first, Callie had tried not to let what she'd learned bother her too much. But as time went on, she became increasingly on edge and resentful about it. Never before had she felt this unwanted—the whole thing made worse by the way Stef and Lena carried on being nice despite how they really felt about her. She couldn't stop second-guessing if they truly meant what they said, even if it was something good.

To cope with the mounting uncertainty about her place in the family, she had been dogged in her efforts to not give the women any more reason to be upset with her. She was careful to stay out of their way to avoid making another mistake around them. Still annoyed with Jude, she distanced herself from him to avoid another fight that would land her in trouble. It was easier that way, and she didn't have to worry about putting on a happy face. Because…as much as it bothered her to admit it, Callie really did want this to work out. Stef and Lena were kind and never hesitated to make time for her, giving her everything she needed and could possibly ever want.

But even being on her best behaviour couldn't keep the gnawing insecurity at bay, which reminded her this was probably too good to be true—that the current arrangement would eventually come to an end. So whenever she could, Callie told herself not to become too comfortable. That if she did, not only would it hurt when they told her she couldn't live here anymore, but that she would be completely lost.

True, her foster mothers spoke of the adoption incessantly, but she couldn't bring herself to believe them. If they had had a moment when they entertained the idea of not having her, there would be nothing to stop them from thinking—and possibly acting on—it again.

So Callie kept tiptoeing, determined to prolong the inevitable.

* * *

As Callie slogged through the assignment, an all too familiar, hollow feeling in her chest overwhelmed her. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had heard Stef admit to weeks ago when she stood outside the storm door, deciding how she'd come inside.

When the dam holding back her angry tears eventually broke, Callie was grateful that apart from Lena—who was in the bath at the moment—no one else was home. Jude and Mariana were with friends for class projects, Brandon was at his Dad's, and Jesus was at some activity. And Stef? She was working late. _Again_.

Wanting to feel better, she threw her binder at the wall by her bed, satisfied by the thud it made. She looked around, wondering what else she could take her frustration out on, when she saw the open novel. In a fit of rage and impulsivity, she grabbed it and began to tear page after yellowing page from it before pitching it as hard as she could across the room.

Callie followed its trajectory with impressed horror as it hit her bedside lamp, causing it to rock on its base. Just as it looked like it might be okay, the lamp toppled over onto the floor.

She winced as it smashed and, almost immediately, Lena called out from the ensuite. "Callie? Is that you? Everything alright?"

"Uh— ** _YEAH_**! I— **MY BINDER FELL**!" she yelled back, hoping Lena wouldn't pick up on her panic as she hurried off the bed. Her eyes widened as she realized the ceramic and bulb had shattered into pieces. Needing a bandaid solution, Callie pulled her sweatshirt sleeve over her hand before using her arm to sweep as much of the mess under her bed, along with the ripped up book and it's pages. She would need some time to figure out how to fix this—but it needed to happen before Lena finished her bath and Stef got home.

"I forgot to take out the garbage!" Callie shouted as she bounded down the stairs. A lie...but she needed an excuse to go out into the garage.

* * *

Callie groaned in frustration, knowing that if she didn't head in soon, Lena would start to wonder what was taking her so long. Unfortunately, she'd only managed to find the wood glue and she was fairly certain that that wouldn't work.

As Callie depressed the latch on the storm door, it struck her that this could be the last straw. She'd been trying to behave but things had been far from perfect. Her sleepwalking the other night had kept Stef up late, delaying everyone the next day. And of course, there was that incident with forging her signature and fighting with Jude.

Noticing that the light in the upstairs bathroom was still on, she took a segue and wandered along the side of the house to the front yard. After having to repeatedly start over in a new placement, only to be ousted months later, she couldn't bring herself to go in. Stef and Lena's wasn't the longest place she'd stayed but it was by far, the closest she'd ever gotten to a forever home. At her age, _this_ was probably her last hope at being adopted. And she'd managed to blow it over some stupid homework.

Callie fingered the latch on the gate, hesitating for a moment before making up her mind. Being careful not to let it slam, she opened it slowly and closed it behind her. If she was going to leave, it had to be while Lena was busy. It wasn't ideal and definitely not something she wanted, but at this point, seemed better than being told to go.

However, by the time she'd reached the park at the end of their block, Callie was beginning to have second thoughts. She was out of breath and her feet ached from hitting the pavement. Not having planned to go anywhere but the garage, she'd left the house with only socks on—and, apart from the clothes she had on, she didn't have any of her belongings. Her money and backpack were still in her room, and she had no idea where she'd stay tonight.

Callie brushed away her tears, which had turned cold in the evening chill. Tomorrow would be a good day to call Bill and ask to go to a group home. From there, all she'd have to do would be to make it three years before being able to apply for independent living. Then, she could start saving and maybe the women would've forgiven her enough by then to let her see Jude.

 _Jude_. She hadn't even said goodbye to him.

She was going to miss Lena's cooking, Stef's snarky sense of humour. Everything they'd talked about doing together as a family…

Wandering back up the street, it began to dawn on her that it hadn't been a good idea to leave.

She began to think about Lena coming out of the bathroom and finding out she wasn't in her room like she was supposed to be. Then calling Stef at work, who wouldn't be happy.

Callie's panic mounted at the sudden realization that she'd gone the way the cop took to and from work. Meaning she needed to find another way home quickly, before they ran into each other—because that would be really bad. It wasn't difficult to recall how upset her foster mothers had been the last time she'd run away. In fact, she was still on restriction because of it. Knowing that she'd be in major trouble if they found out she'd left at this hour, Callie ran for the closest alley and raced home.

This time, she didn't hesitate to burst through the back door.

* * *

Half an hour later, still rattled and now hungry from the adventure she'd had, Callie decided to make herself toast. Though relieved to find Stef wasn't home yet and Lena still in her bath, she still wanted to avoid going upstairs in case Lena began to ask questions. At least this way she would have something to do.

Unfortunately, it wasn't an easy a task as Callie had hoped. One slice had managed to become wedged and after many failed attempts to dislodge it from the slot resulted in singed fingers, she decided to pry it out with a fork.

In the meantime—unbeknownst to her daughter—Stef had come in through the front door. Wanting to lock up her stuff right away, she headed upstairs and said a quick hello to Lena before heading back down. She had just gotten one foot into the kitchen when she saw Callie go at the toaster with the utensil in her hand.

"JE- ** _SUS_**!" she exclaimed, running over to her daughter in strides. "ARE YOU **_TRYING_** TO **_KILL_** ME CALLIE?"

Startled by the commotion, Callie jumped and spun around. She'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't heard Stef at all. Sorry—I'm sorry!" she apologized, flinching as the fork hit the counter and fell onto the floor with a clang. Her foster mother was yelling and she had no idea why.

All it took was one look for Stef to realize she had scared her child; Callie was breathing hard, braced up against the counter. She felt terrible for being the source of Callie's fear, even if it'd been to prevent her from getting hurt.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to yell like that. You just scared me half to death, that's all," Stef explained, forcing her voice steady. It wasn't easy; her heart was still pounding from that dose of excitement Callie had given her. "I'm not mad," she said quietly, "...you're not in any trouble."

She'd forgotten how sensitive her daughter had been over the last couple days. How careful she and Lena had needed to be with their words.

"Just unplug if you're going to do that," Stef reminded, reaching over to do precisely that before easily popping the bread out. "Whatcha got here?" she asked as she surveyed the items laid out on the counter, which included a banana. "You want peanut butter toast with banana..." she said, guessing the answer before Callie could. She smiled to herself; this was the first time the girl had helped herself to something to eat and she couldn't wait to tell Lena. "Open-faced?"

Callie looked dejectedly at the charred slice of bread. "No…inside," she whispered hoarsely, glad Stef was offering to make it for her.

The woman popped in two new slices of bread, confident she would be able to amend this sad state of affairs. "Sure thing! One PB and banana toast coming right up!" She rubbed Callie's arm, trying to ease the tension from her daughter. "Here, love. Why don't you come sit with me while I have my dinner? I want to hear about your day."

Deciding that the woman's encouraging smile meant things were safe, Callie allowed herself to be steered to the table.

Wanting her daughter to tuck in, Stef brought over milk, yogurt, and grapes before returning to fix the toast. She sliced the banana thinly and cut the sandwich diagonally—how Callie liked it—before setting the plate in front of her. "Go ahead," she encouraged, seeing the girl hesitate. "I'm going to heat up my dinner and I'll be right there."

"Mam—Lena—left you your plate in the fridge," Callie said, remembering she was supposed to remind Stef. She felt her mouth go dry, upset by how easily the word had tumbled out. Her defences had been weakened.

"Nice. Thanks, Bug. What did Mama cook?" the cop asked, grateful that she was rummaging around in the fridge. She was confused by hearing Callie call Lena by name—it hadn't happened for a while now.

"Uhm, salmon and green beans and twice-baked potatoes. Oh…and barley soup," Callie added in a less than enthused tone. Barley soup was _jail_ food.

"Mmm, your favourite!" Stef chuckled at the transparency of her daughter's feelings over the soup. "So, she had time to make twice-baked potatoes on a weeknight? Someone must've been helping her if she was feeling that ambitious," she said, winking at Callie. The girl smiled shyly at her, confirming she'd been the one beside Lena tonight. Still, the woman was starting to get the sense something was off. Her daughter had been much quieter than her usual self and avoiding eye contact with her, a habit they'd been slowly moving away from. But what mostly concerned her was Callie's damp hair and filthy socks—she was showered, but it was out of character for her to get back into soiled clothes afterwards. Unlike Jude, Callie was good about picking a clean outfit. Then it dawned on her as she took in the girl's blue-tinged lips and shivering for the first time since coming in: Callie had been outside.

"How was school?" Stef asked when she was finally able to sit down at the table.

Callie shrugged, chasing down her sandwich with milk. "Okay."

The cop frowned; she was hoping for a little more than that. "Do you have any homework left?"

Callie's eyes widened as she considered how she'd finish the rest of her English questions with half a novel. "Some…" she whispered. Feeling a lump form in her throat, she averted her gaze. If Stef and Lena found out, they'd be so mad.

Concerned by the reaction, Stef put down her fork to give her daughter her full attention. "Did you get a chance to work on that National song tonight?" she questioned casually. This time, Callie could only manage to shake her head before falling silent again.

"You doing okay, love?" the cop pressed, determined for any level of engagement. "We've barely seen you all week and are missing having you around."

Her daughter's gaze darted up to meet her's before falling again.

"Sorry," Callie mumbled, worried Stef was getting annoyed. "I'm just really tired…" she trailed off.

"Still having trouble sleeping?" More and more, Stef was becoming convinced that Callie needed intervention for her poor sleep. But she could hear her wife now. _I am not medicating my children, Stef._

"No…" Callie lied. She peeled the wrapper from the yogurt, grateful to have something to focus on. She had been waking up more after that nightmare but wasn't going to admit that.

"Are you sure?" Judging by the inflection in her daughter's voice, Stef knew that wasn't the truth.

She sighed when Callie only shrugged and her shoulders sagged even further. Something had happened in the last few days that had caused Callie's mistrust in them to ramp up. They needed to earn it back by showing her—not just expecting her to give it back because she'd been asked to.

Seeing Callie retreat and fold into herself after a period of time in which she'd been comfortable enough to come out of their shell was disheartening, to say the least. She and Lena suspected that the hurt feelings that had resulted from Callie and Jude's fight were contributing to how withdrawn the girl had been lately. This, they'd been spending extra time with her. As much as Callie would tolerate it, they'd talk about the adoption and some of her goals to keep her hopes up about the future. They hung out in the bathroom a little longer while she showered and read to her before bed. It was difficult, though, to suss out how much she heard them. Because unfortunately, she only appeared to become more guarded and worried, requiring more reassurance about things she and Lena thought had already been established. Even the slightest redirection—like a routine reminder about picking up her side of the room—would lead to tears.

Stef grabbed her napkin and turned in her chair. "Look up for me, sweets," she instructed, gently lifting Callie's chin with her thumb and forefinger. There was peanut butter by her mouth. "There," she fussed as she wiped away the smudge.

"You've taken your shower already?" she asked, pleased when Callie confirmed with a nod. "That's my good girl."

Having expected Callie to crack a smile at being praised, she was taken aback when her daughter's chin trembled and she pulled away instead. "Sweetness…whatever is going on, you need to tell us. Let us in," she began, convinced she needed to know about what the girl was hiding. There was a lot more going on than Callie being tired. "You can come to Mama and I with anything—you know that, right?" Stef pled, desperate for Callie to believe her. "Please, honey. What is it? I want to help."

Callie regarded the woman with a wary look. Now that the adrenaline from the evening had worn off, she was too tired to pretend everything was okay and to wonder if Stef was onto her. Part of her _did_ want to be honest, if only to find out how the women would react. Because the more they were nice to her, the more uneasy and confused she'd become. It only made things harder in the long run; to have it _so good_ would only make the separation more difficult when she no longer had them to rely on.

"It's nothing," Callie said hoarsely as guilt and disappointment bubbled inside her. She hadn't the slightest idea how she'd tell the cop—nor was she ready to. She wished she hadn't ripped her book or broken the lamp, adding to all the other missteps she had recently made. In hindsight, leaving the house had been her biggest mistake—one she knew Stef wouldn't be happy about.

 _"Bug…"_ Stef said sympathetically, seeing the worry etched on the girl's face. Callie was obviously nervous. "I promise you, whatever it is, is not going to be as bad as you think. You've got so much on your plate right now...and you'll feel so much better after you let it out. We can fix it together," she said, slowly coaxing the truth out from her. Callie was so close to spilling.

Callie took a deep breath. "Stef—I…I messed up," she finally conceded, her expression filling with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry…y—you and Lena are gonna be so mad!"

"Slow down, Bug. What makes you think you messed up?" Not wanting Callie to stop communicating, Stef forced a neutral reaction despite bracing herself internally. Judging by the way Callie had gone back to calling her and Lena by name, the insecurity was in full swing.

The girl stared dubiously, confused by the question. "I m—made a mistake." Unable to help the tears from rolling down her cheeks, she rubbed them away impatiently.

"Don't we all?" Stef challenged as she brushed the hair out of her daughter's face. "Are you afraid that Mama and I will be angry with you because you made a mistake?" she asked, slightly nervous by what she might learn.

"I see. That's understandable," she empathized when Callie nodded.

"Well, I can't promise we won't be—I think you already know that, hey?" she continued, trying to reconcile honesty with the reassurance her daughter was looking for at this moment. "… _but_ I will tell you this. We usually get upset because we don't completely understand the reasoning behind your decisions, and because we believe in you to make the choices we know you're more than capable of. So all that would happen is that we'd talk about it and listen to what you have to say. You're making such a brave decision by being honest about something you're not proud of. That's _never_ a mistake," she said, cradling the girl's face between her palms as she shook her head for emphasis. "At the end of the day, nothing changes. We still love you very much. Nothing's unforgivable, honey."

Callie shook her head; she didn't believe that. "I ran away, okay?!" she blurted out in frustration. She sniffed as more pent up tears coursed down her face.

"You what? You ran away?" Stef exhaled, giving a pained smile. She wasn't sure she'd heard that right.

Her daughter nodded a _yeah_ before her face crumpled. "Where did you go?" she asked, gently squeezing both of Callie's hands in her's in a soothing gesture.

The girl glanced up cautiously as she tried to read her reaction. "Down the block, to—to the park," she said timidly before her voice pitched and gave way to soft cries. "But I c—came home right a—away!" she added, hoping that might mitigate whatever consequence Stef and Lena would come up with. None of them were allowed to go anywhere without permission—especially not her.

The whole thing had left her discouraged. Because she'd been trying— _really_ trying—to follow the rules after the last few times she'd gotten into trouble and it hadn't been easy. Her foster moms' expectations were a lot to keep track of and she never got a say in anything. Often, she found she didn't think about what she was doing until well past the point to turn things around. And she could never come up with a reason why, other than it had made sense at the time.

Stef bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment. Although she was proud of her daughter's honesty, the park was not, as Callie had described, only a block away. It was much further and the street to get there was poorly lit and treelined. Frankly, thinking of her thirteen-year-old wandering outside alone at night alarmed her. Unfortunately, this had only proven, once again, why they couldn't fully trust Callie. Still, they couldn't expect her to blindly come to heel either. At this age, mischief was to be expected.

"What made you come back?" she asked curiously. She was, of course, relieved but wanted to know what had changed Callie's mind.

"I'm not allowed to go anywhere without you or Lena. I thought you...you'd be really mad if you found me so I came home," the girl mumbled.

Stef smiled fondly. _Home. Callie had called it her home_. Even when her daughter was in trouble she never failed to worm her way further into her heart.

"You're not wrong, Cal. Why do you think I would have been upset?"

Callie frowned at the woman's confusion. "Cause, you said. Not to leave without asking," she said slowly. "Or go anywhere alone."

Stef had to cough to avoid laughing at the baffled expression on her daughter's face. Dr. Wiseman had warned them about this. Callie had enough foresight to consider the repercussions of her actions and decide it wasn't worth it. But while it had worked in convincing her that she was better off reconsidering to heed their rules, it was still very fear-driven—not quite what she expected from someone Callie's age. Ideally, she would've liked some acknowledgement on the girl's part that leaving without telling anyone was unsafe.

"Yes, I would've come looking for you had I come home to find you'd left. And yes, you would have been in hot water when I found you. Very hot water, missy," Stef said, choking up. There'd been too many close calls with Callie bolting, even when they thought they'd been watching her carefully. It was becoming a safety issue.

Thankful nothing bad had happened to her daughter while she'd been out alone, Stef gripped Callie by the shoulders and held her at arms length. "You _can't,_ Callie—you _can't_ be doing that. It's unsafe, honey. Please don't do that again." She could only hope her words were having an impact. "I am so, _so_ proud of you, though, for deciding to come home and for telling me. Mama will be too."

Callie's stomach did a somersault. "Do you have to tell her? I don't want you to," she protested.

"I'm sorry, honey, but we do. You know that," the cop replied calmly, seeing Callie's muted panic. "Is there a reason you ran away? Did you fight with Jude again? Was Mariana mean to you?"

The cop sighed when her attempt to distract Callie only resulted in her freezing. They would need to deal with this sooner than later—to let the girl know that things would be fine between them.

"Alright. Let's go find Mama."

* * *

"I don't need help!" Callie said, a little too defensively for Stef to be comfortable letting her go into her room by herself.

The woman cocked an eyebrow at Callie, who was standing in the middle of the doorway. Telling her she _definitely_ needed to go in there to check things out. As they had headed upstairs, her daughter's reluctance to talk with Lena had grown. By the time they'd gotten to the top landing, Callie had outright refused to go into the master bedroom, insisting she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Eventually, she had worn down the cop.

Stef sighed in exasperation. " _Teeth_ ," she reminded, pointing to the bathroom. "Callie. Brushing is not negotiable," she warned, a little more firmly, when she received a blank stare.

"I can get ready myself!" Callie asserted. She wasn't moving until the woman left.

" _Alright_..." The cop waved to the bathroom again. "So get ready then. Brush. Wash your face. I need to make your bed anyways so I can tuck you in."

" _NO_!" Callie quickly blocked the woman as she tried to walk through the door. She didn't like that Stef would be in her room, either.

" _Callie._ _What_?" Stef said impatiently. Her exasperation was mounting.

Callie swallowed, not sure how she could get rid of her foster mother. "Can you, um…go away?" she finally blurted out.

" _Excuse_ _me_?" Stef scoffed, half laughing. It never failed to amuse her how her children assumed they could pull the veil over her eyes. "Alright, missy. Inside. **_Now_** " she ordered, pulling Callie aside and swatting her lightly on the rear to move her along. "No more games."

The source of her daughter's anxiety immediately became obvious once the light flicked on. Pieces of white ceramic and glass littered the floor by the nightstand. "Your lamp broke, did it?" the woman said casually. No wonder Callie had been stalling. If she had been previously punished for things being broken, it was only natural that she'd tried to hide it now.

"Can you go get the broom and dustpan for me, love? There's one in the closet down the hall."

Callie stared blankly at her before turning and running out of the room. By the time she returned, she was red in the face and breathless.

" _NO_! Don't look there!" the girl exclaimed, panicking as Stef got down on her knees to peer under her bed. While it'd only be a matter of time before her foster mom found the rest of it, she was apprehensive about how she would react. "Not yet…" Callie added, embarrassed by the quizzical expression the cop was now regarding her with.

"I have to, honey. It's not a big deal but we do need to clean up," Stef explained, keeping her tone soft. The underlying tremor in her daughter's words indicated she was close to tears.

"I didn't mean to—I'm sorry," Callie said tentatively as she handed over the broom.

"Things break. You are worth much more than something I can run out to the store for," the woman pointed out, trying to put Callie's fears to rest while she assessed the extent of the mess underneath the bed. "A lamp is replaceable…you are not."

She sighed, feeling like she was getting nowhere. "Did it get knocked over?"

"Kinda, yeah," Callie whispered. Stef's words had done nothing for her conscience. Sure, she hadn't meant to break the lamp but she _had_ meant to wreck her book. The lamp had, unfortunately, been an unintended target of her anger.

Stef winced at the distinct sensation of glass crunching under her boots. _She'd need to run the vacuum over after_. "Stay where you are. I don't want you to cut yourself," she instructed, reaching for the dustpan. Changing her mind, she got up and pulled a new pair of pyjamas from the dresser, tossing them at Callie before returning to the task at hand. "Actually, sit on Mariana's bed and get into your PJs—I won't look," she said, hoping a distraction would quell her daughter's nerves.

"How on earth did you manage to get all of this under here?" Stef asked after awhile. Some fragments were all the way by the back wall and she was having a hell of a time reaching everything with the broom.

Shedding her socks and pulling the pyjama top over her head, Callie shrugged at her foster mother.

Confused at discovering ripped pages as she swept, Stef paused to unfurl one that'd been crumpled into a ball. "What'd Katherine Paterson do to you, sweets?" she asked, seeing the _Bridge to Terabithia_ title.

Callie paled at the question. "N—nothing. I—I didn't mean to wreck it," she stammered, heart thudding.

"Do you want to try and talk about what happened?" the cop asked, desperate to understand the precipitating events that had lead to Callie destroying her novel. "That's okay," she said, deciding to back off when she saw her daughter's downcast expression. "We'll have our chat tomorrow." It was probably better to get Lena up to speed on the events of the evening before their discussion, anyway.

Knowing she probably wouldn't get much else out of Callie, she focused on retrieving the rest of the pages, shaking each one out. Eventually, she found the novel, its cover still intact but hanging off. Winded from the effort and bloated from dinner, she unbuckled her belt to give herself a little more room to work with. Glancing at the time, she shook her head; it was already well past Callie's bedtime.

The girl's eyes widened as she saw her foster mother's hands go to her waist. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to deal with the panic rising in her throat.

 _Stef wouldn't beat her. She believed that._

However, burdened by the knowledge that there'd been a time when the cop wanted her out of their home brought on a familiar, painful ache. One that reminded her that the ground on which she stood was vulnerable of giving way at any moment.

Her stomach flipped at the thought that Stef could stop her adoption and just like that, she'd be sent to another placement with people who were far less nice. People like Val who would probably hit her with a belt for something like this. Fearing that outcome, Callie decided she'd better convince her foster mom she was worth keeping. "I can pay for another copy!" she offered, hoping that would smooth things over enough to sway Stef's opinion about her. If she could come up with a way to fix this, Stef and Lena would have one less thing to be mad at her about.

"My love, it's not about the book. I don't care about the book," Stef replied, her heart aching at seeing Callie's panic-stricken face.

Certain that she had enough money stashed in her bag, Callie hopped off Mariana's bed. She wanted to show the cop she was serious. To get a replacement at school, all she would need to do would be to pay for a second deposit.

"Cal— ** _CALLIE_**!" Stef shouted, panic inadvertently causing her to raise her voice. Her daughter had just missed stepping on the pile of shards she had swept up. "You need to go sit on Mari's bed. I'm serious," she said, uncomfortable with Callie wandering around in bare feet.

Annoyed and perplexed when Callie all but ignored her, she got up off the floor and quickly walked over to the girl. "I am not telling you again," she warned, harshening her tone.

Crushed at the unexpected sternness, Callie choked up and began to cry. Even with the best of intentions, all she had managed to do was to upset her foster mom further—giving her one more reason to not want her. "Stef—I—I won't do it again. P—promise. I'm s—sorry," she apologized.

The cop winced at hearing her name. To go from being _Mom_ , only to have it suddenly revoked was an indescribable loss. It felt incredibly unfair.

"I know you won't. And I appreciate your apology, I really do, honey. But there's still glass on the floor so you and me—we're going to go have our talk with Mama right now," she said firmly. She reached for Callie, hoping to coax her into obeying, only to feel her heart constrict when the girl recoiled.

"No. I need my bag," Callie retorted as she stubbornly tried to go around the woman. She was determined to fix this, but she couldn't with Stef in her way.

As Stef blocked her daughter from sidestepping past her a second time, it occurred to her that she was quickly running out of options. For whatever reason, Callie had no intention of listening, and she was certain it would only be a matter of time before she got hurt. This time, when her daughter tried that maneuver again, Stef was anticipating it. Wrapping her arms around the girl's torso, she pulled her up off the floor and walked briskly out of the room. As if she could leave behind all of Callie's fears the sooner she got them out of there.

"Sorry, lovebug, but you can't be in your room right now. You're going to end up with a cut in your foot," Stef said, speaking quietly into her daughter's ear. That was the last thing they needed. "You're not in trouble but we are going to sit down together until you calm down and can talk about what's going on."

Completely frustrated with not being able to do what she wanted, Callie pushed against the woman with both palms to break free. "No! _NO_! **LET _GO_! I'M NOT GOING WITH YOU! I'M _NOT_!"**

Stef's voice faltered as she continued to talk over the girl's protests. So disproportionate was the reaction to what had taken place that all she could think about was the magnitude of Callie's mistrust in her. And that was hurtful—much more than her daughter's failed attempts to get away from her. She was just thankful that this wasn't the first time she had picked Callie up—her body knew exactly what its job was to counterbalance the girl's weight, even amidst the angry fists pummelling her back and intermittent kicks to her shins.

By now, Lena had overheard the commotion and had come running. "What's going on?" she mouthed as her wife plunked herself down at the foot of their bed, bringing Callie with her.

The cop shook her head; she didn't have an answer. Bracing one foot up against the bed frame, she held Callie close—having her stand in between her legs, both arms around her daughter's upper body. Satisfied Callie wouldn't be going anywhere, she allowed her to rage and waited for the storm to pass.

In the meantime, she and Lena carried on a conversation in the manner parents did when their children were in the vicinity.

"I should get changed," Stef pointed out after several long minutes had passed, hoping her wife would catch her drift. It was true—she _was_ starting to overheat in the polyester uniform as she maintained her hold on Callie. But the real issue was that she was starting to question if this was the right approach and how long she could keep this up.

Putting her hair into a bun, Lena nodded. She had felt helpless watching things unfold and was anxious to switch off with her wife.

Eventually, Callie's fatigue began to set in. Her foster mom was way stronger than she was and the more she struggled, the tighter she was held. Remembering what else she'd done to annoy the women in recent weeks, all her troubles began to tumble out.

"I d—didn't push J—Ju—Jude like h—he _said_!" she managed to utter before a shuddering breath stopped her. Finding it hard to get her words out, she became even more angry. _"He took—he t—TOOK it...he wouldn't g—give it BACK! I was trying to g—get it b—back."_

The cop frowned, exchanging a puzzled look with Lena. Neither understood why the altercation was being brought up again. "I don't think Mama and I were ever convinced you shoved your brother without reason, baby girl..." she murmured. Her daughter was nearly incomprehensible at this point, but the important pieces were there.

" _NO!_ M— ** _MOM_**! I d— **DIDN'T**!" Callie screamed through her tears. No one was listening; she hadn't pushed him!

Desperate to tell her truth, she hiccupped her way through the rest of her explanation. "A—and I—I didn't _t—throw_ it! J—Jude dr—dropped it!"

"THE **_CAS—SETTE PLAYER_**!" Callie exploded when both women looked confused.

Telling on Jude felt awful but she hoped that by telling the women the whole story about why she'd been mean to him would clear some of the mistakes off her plate. Jude was wanted. He could afford to make mistakes—she couldn't.

Compared to her little brother, she had a lot more to lose.

Stef's eyes widened at the outburst. She had seen her daughter angry and upset before, but not like this. "Bug, I am so sorry, but I don't understand…are you afraid that you're going to get hurt because some things broke?" she ventured, recalling the night terror.

Callie shook her head forcefully. She wanted validation from Stef and Lena that everything would be okay. That they knew some of those things she'd originally taken responsibility for hadn't been her fault at all. But she wasn't getting it.

"Because we don't punish for accidents, right?" Stef said, drawing from everything she knew of the children's past to allay Callie's fears. "We do not do that here, sweets."

"Y—you, Y—YOU _W—W—_ ** _WILL_** " Callie sobbed, her accusations increasingly incoherent. Stef would get rid of her. "You _w—will_ a—and it'll b—be _o—over!_ "

The woman frowned. _Will what?_ "No…" she said. "You will not be in any trouble for an accident. Do you not believe me?" They had definitely talked about this in the delirium of her daughter's night terror; obviously, Callie didn't remember.

"But—but it w—w—wasn't all an _a—acc—cident!"_ Callie blubbered as she renewed her efforts to pull away from the cop. "The la—lamp was but—but not th—he b—book!"

"Callie. _Love_. You need to believe us. No—" Stef turned Callie's chin towards her. "Look at me. You aren't in trouble; we aren't mad at you. It doesn't matter who broke what, or what got broken. It's nothing that can't be fixed. It's nothing—nothing—to be this upset about," she soothed. "…If you're worried we will be upset or won't love you…Mama and I, we love you so much and—"

"—DON'T _SAY_ **THAT**!" Callie screamed, startling both women with another outburst. Throwing that word around was not only confusing, but hurtful and unfair. " **YOU DON'T GET TO SAY _THAT_**!" Feeling Stef loosen her grip, she wrenched herself out of her hold.

She had had it. Like Jesse in the book, who had been learning to embrace what Leslie wanted him to, she had been trying to do what Stef wanted her to as well. It had led her away from everything she had known. Slowly, as the women welcomed her into their lives and talked about their plans to adopt, she'd begun to ignore the voice of insecurity inside that told her to be careful with who she trusted.

Finally, when she barely had one foot in the door—ready to let go and accept them as her family, Stef had admitted to not wanting her after all.

The door had closed, leaving her outside in the dark with no way to come in or go back to where she came from. It had been the worst feeling in the world: being too far away from what was familiar to know how to return—but with no way to move forward, either.

"Okay. Okay. I won't say that…" Stef acquiesced, putting up her palms. She wouldn't insist if Callie wasn't ready to hear those words but she was stunned by the sudden animosity towards her.

The words amounted to a punch to the gut, made all the more painful because they'd been seeing emerging signs of Callie's attachment to them lately. She had begun to acknowledge that they were her Moms, express her affection towards them, and refer to their home in a way that suggested she felt it was her's. Callie had been letting them _in_. Watching the progress unravel was disheartening.

At a loss as to what she could do other than offer Stef a much-needed reprieve, Lena sat down beside her so she could also face their daughter. She knew that Callie's reaction had hurt her wife. Stef's eyes were red, brimming with tears, and her chin trembled with emotion. The cop was barely holding it together.

"Sweetheart," Lena began, feeling herself on the verge of tears. "Will you let me hold you?" she asked, desperate to comfort her daughter. Callie was crying uncontrollably now, her ability to regulate her breathing long gone. "We don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. It just makes me sad to see you so upset."

The women held a collective breath as Callie hesitated, appearing to be caught off guard by the offer. Her expression softened, showing all her vulnerability and uncertainty. In the past, it'd been Lena who worked her magic when their daughter was heading into a meltdown.

Prepared when their daughter eventually gave a dejected nod, Lena gathered her into her arms. "Come here. Shh…shh, baby. Let it out," she consoled, resting her head against Callie's. "I'm right here and am not going anywhere," she said, tearing up as her child clung to her—big, heaving sobs shaking her body.

"I d—don't w— _want_ her to say _th—at_!" Callie repeated hoarsely, having lost her voice from all the shouting she had done.

"We won't say it if you're not ready yet. Not until you're okay with it," Lena placated. She was fine respecting Callie's request. There were a multitude of ways they expressed affection for their children. However, they needed to be careful with their messaging—that they wouldn't withdraw that language forever—only until Callie was comfortable with it.

Hoping to bring the girl back from the brink of a panic attack, she began to sway in place. "Deep breaths," she instructed, just as a coughing fit triggered Callie's gag reflex. Afraid her daughter would make herself sick from the prolonged crying, Lena took her hand and pressed the sweaty palm against her chest. "Just like this, sweetheart. That's right," Lena said as she took deep breaths to demonstrate.

She kept her other arm wrapped around the girl as the sobs gradually ceased. Finally, she found the courage to ask the question that had been on her mind since she stumbled upon her wife carrying Callie into their room.

"What got you so worked up, baby…?

"What's gotten you this worked up?"

* * *

 **A/N** : Hope this turned out alright. Let me know what you thought.

P.S. Thanks very much for the well wishes and messages! New babe and big sis seem to be settling in well (so far, anyways), my recovery has been good, and though we're exhausted, we're happy.


	42. Cracks in the Veneer

**Author Note:**

Callie gets some much-needed time with her Mama, and together they begin to make some progress. Sorry (but not too sorry) for the shorter length. The length of the next chapter was getting out of hand, so some carving was needed.

Huge thanks to **theypreferthetermpeople** for proofreading and for being a sounding board for ideas. Love this opportunity to have something to focus on that is not related to the baby. Thank you :)

* * *

 **Chapter 40:** Cracks in the Veneer

Feeling ill-equipped to go back to the situation with Callie after getting changed, Stef finished cleaning the girls' room. Brandon had then called from his Dad's asking if he could sleep over. Too tired to argue, she had relented; plus, Mike had made the decision easy by agreeing to drop him off at school before his shift started. By the time the rest of the kids came home and Stef tucked them in for the night, it'd been a good forty-five minutes since she had left Callie with Lena.

She sighed happily when, upon returning to the master bedroom, she caught glimpse of them from the doorway. The two of them were snuggled under the blanket, propped up on pillows while looking at the iPad. Noticing her standing there, Lena smiled as she kissed her daughter on the head. She looked content and Stef could understand why—her wife didn't often get the chance to bond with Callie, so every opportunity to do so was special. Wanting to give them a little more time together, the cop headed into the shower.

Feeling Callie take in a shuddering breath, Lena brought her in closer to her side and smoothed the brown head of hair. With her free hand, she adjusted the damp patch on the front of her t-shirt which was uncomfortably plastered to her skin—the result of standing behind her daughter at the sink so she could wash Callie's face.

After being inconsolable for the better part of an hour, Callie eventually quieted down. In the end, it was distraction that had helped: reading webcomics, taking turns sharing music videos with each other, and talking about plans for the upcoming weekend. Knowing her daughter wouldn't open up without some nudging, Lena used the transition points between these activities to her advantage. With the woman's gentle persistence, it wasn't long before her questions began to yield some clues as to what was going on.

What had eluded and troubled her the most were comments her daughter had uttered in the midst of her meltdown—the ones that suggested a belief that she would get hurt or be reprimanded in some way for the broken items. That it would " _be over"_ as Callie had put it, when Stef had tried to reassure her. However, the idea of trying to tease _that_ apart was daunting, to say the least. So for now, she would begin by revisiting the fight between the siblings. Because she had a nagging feeling that there was more that had happened there than what Callie and Jude had admitted to that evening. And whatever it was had obviously been deeply upsetting to Callie.

Sure enough, Lena's hunch had been proven correct. All it had taken was for her to bring up Jude for the floodgates to open. Tearfully, her daughter recounted how the youngster had grabbed the tape player and how she had been trying to stop him when he lost his footing and fell on the fireplace tile.

The woman shook her head. She understood that the cassettes had been a sore spot for Jude but was also annoyed by his behaviour lately. Like Callie, he had been testing his limits; however, in some ways it was almost worse because he had Jesus to team up with. How Jude had behaved in this latest incident was simply unacceptable.

"What happened to my tax papers that I had organized so nicely?" Lena asked warily.

Callie stopped, remembering the moment the entire stack had fallen and spread across the floor like an accordion. "It got knocked off when Jude bumped the desk," she said quietly, still feeling awful for telling on him. She'd omitted the part about him wrecking her tape—Lena hadn't asked, and she wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"What about the cassette player?"

"It fell. I didn't throw it, Mama," Callie admitted, looking up at her foster mother.

Lena hummed as she nodded thoughtfully. "And what have Mom and I said about taking responsibility for things you are not responsible for?" she asked tiredly.

"I thought I was helping," her daughter whispered after an uncomfortable pause. "Sorry."

"Helping who? Jude? By letting him accuse you of pushing him when that wasn't the truth?" the woman challenged. "I think, honey, that you need to leave the helping up to us adults and not take that upon yourself," she said when Callie remained silent. They had talked about this countless times by now.

"I know. It's going to take some practice. You've gotten so used to looking out for him," Lena empathized. She believed, in her heart of hearts, that Callie's inclination to protect her brother was reflexive—without planning or malcontent. Still, she and Stef needed to help their daughter shift her thinking—so she didn't think of herself and her needs as being secondary to her brother's. With Callie owning up to what had happened that evening, though, she was feeling slightly more confident that her child was taking a step in the right direction.

"He—he's so m—mad at me!" Callie concluded, sniffling. "Jude really wanted to listen but I didn't want him to!" Now that she had told on him, he was probably going to be more upset with her.

"Oh, honey..." Lena sighed at Callie's distress. She really felt for the girl, only able to imagine how hard this must be. Growing up, she and her half-brother had had their share of fights, but it was different. Nate had come from her Dad's first failed marriage and they had been older when they met, with different interests. The relationship wasn't based on storms they had mutually weathered. Callie and Jude, however, were like needle and thread. One an aimless, free spirit who was able to enjoy most of the freedoms of childhood because of the other, who never failed to weave things together if they began to unfurl. Their circumstances had made them inseparable.

"He may very well be, but he won't be angry with you forever." She wasn't trying to minimize her daughter's feelings, but wanted to offer her hope, too.

"You understand why Jude was upset about the cassettes your Mom left you, right?" she questioned after a while. "He wants, just as much as you do, to remember her. To be able to take part in the special relationship that you had with her. Make no mistake, I am not condoning his actions in any way… you were not wrong for not being ready to share yet. That's understandable," Lena affirmed. Confident that it'd only be a matter of time before Callie would share the recordings with him, she and Stef had agreed that they wouldn't force the issue. But it was important for her daughter to be able to see it his way.

"Aren't you mad at him, too?"

Callie shrugged. "A little," she said unconvincingly. The truth was, while she _was_ put off by him, she didn't _want_ to be.

Lena smiled to herself at the girl's attempt to minimize her feelings about the whole mess. "A _little_?" she said, using a tone to highlight her disbelief. "So… Jude took the cassette player after he learned he would not be getting a turn. Then, he took advantage of knowing you would not stick up for yourself, and you are only a _little_ bit angry?" she challenged, raising her eyebrows expectantly. The smile reached her eyes as Callie nodded, biting her lip as she did so.

Callie looked up at Lena, surprised her foster mother had managed to put into words how she felt. "Yeah," she admitted dejectedly.

"It's okay to be mad at your brother. Perfectly okay," Lena stated definitively. "I can only imagine how threatened you must have felt when he didn't listen to you. Now, I'm not completely sure if you two were communicating respectfully to begin with," she said, remembering all of the yelling that had taken place before she and Stef went to intervene. "But that doesn't mean you don't get to be upset with him."

Her daughter was starting to fidget, her ability and willingness to talk about this quickly fading. Reaching around Callie's shoulder, she clasped both of the girl's hands in her's.

"Oh, Bug… I'm sorry. Mom and I were hoping that you'd get some privacy by having you listen downstairs."

Callie frowned. It wasn't their fault. It'd just been bad timing that Jude had come looking for her. No one could've predicted that. She leaned into her foster mom, letting her adjust the blanket around them. She felt pretty safe—and surprisingly, even a little better—now that the truth was out.

Getting the sense that her daughter was more at ease, Lena decided to go on. "Do you remember what we talked about some things being off limits when it comes to disagreements with others?"

Callie nodded reluctantly. She did. "We can't say stuff to make each other feel like they're not part of the family," she grumbled, giving the answer she knew was expected of her.

"Well…we can…but we really shouldn't," Lena stated, unable to stop the teacher within from correcting the girl's word choice. "But yes. Whether it's the family you and Jude had with your Mom and Dad, or this one," she reiterated, assured that Callie had gotten the message.

She pulled the girl in closer, as if to soften the blow from the next question she intended to ask. "Sweetheart? Do you sometimes feel like maybe you're not a part of this family?"

Feeling a lump in her throat form, Callie looked away. Lena was wrong. It was actually feeling like she _was_ a part of this family and the thought of it ending that made her upset.

Lena waited patiently, continuing only when it was clear her daughter would remain silent. "Because it's okay if you do, sweetheart. These things take time," she said, not wanting to guilt or shame Callie for feeling the way she did. As with all transitions, complicated feelings were natural—and despite her and Stef's excitement about adding to their family, they certainly didn't expect the siblings to match their happiness. "You do need to know that we consider you a part of ours, though."

She knew she had hit a sore spot when Callie snuck a glance up at her. The girl's eyes were brimming with tears, betraying the strength she wanted to portray. Lena was now convinced that this was why Callie had bristled at hearing Stef say she loved her. It was her way of maintaining distance between herself and those she wasn't too sure of yet.

To Callie, it wasn't worth getting close to people who wouldn't be her family. She had been let down too many times to risk getting hurt again.

But still too young to articulate these fears, Callie had no way of telling them.

* * *

"Hi, loves…" Stef said quietly, settling in on the bed before looking over Lena's shoulder. Though she was saddened to see Callie scoot closer towards her wife, it also warmed her heart to see her being comfortable with Lena.

Not wanting to forget Callie's vitamin, she retrieved the Flintstones bottle from the nightstand and handed it to her wife. Due to resistance from their daughter on previous occasions when Lena had tried, she had taken over the dispensing of the nightly multivitamin, as well as any over-the-counter stuff when Callie was sick. Luckily, that had happened very rarely since the siblings started living with them. However, she no longer had any energy left tonight.

Lena untwisted the cap and shook out a tablet before giving the container back to Stef. "Here, honey," she said as confidently as she could, holding it out for Callie. For reasons unknown to her, she always had less success with getting their daughter to comply compared to when Stef tried.

Having watched what the women were doing, Callie shook her head and drew away from the woman. She didn't like how it squeaked in her teeth as she chewed, or the powdery aftertaste. Plus, she was pretty sure those vitamins did nothing—she hadn't had to take them until Stef and Lena's, and she pretty much felt the same now as she did before.

Lena rolled her eyes, more out of amusement than annoyance, as she handed the pill back to Stef to set aside. Callie had made her thoughts on this issue abundantly clear on several occasions. However, insisting on a daily dose was less about nutrition—as a family, they ate healthily enough. It was more about getting Callie used to a routine of taking care of herself, and helping her tolerate medications by extension. The idea had been their family doctor's. Because whenever Callie did get sick, she and Stef had a great deal of difficulty getting any medication into her.

"Before bed, okay?" she said, coaxing a small nod from their daughter. This was not the hill she was willing to die on tonight.

"Thanks for keeping Mama company, Bug…" Stef said softly as she caught glimpse of Callie peering at her. She smiled at the girl as she tried to ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach. Callie's face was chapped and her eyes were puffy, indicating that she had been crying for quite some time. "What did you two do all evening?"

Ashamed at the way she had acted earlier, Callie withdrew her gaze. She knew what was coming. Lena had given her two choices. Talk about everything together when Stef came back; or, talk through some things, just the two of them together. Then, they could share with Stef afterwards. Either way, Lena had made it clear that they would be having a chat.

Except she didn't want to. She wasn't ready.

Feeling Callie press her face into her side, Lena rubbed her arm reassuringly. Their daughter hadn't left her side in well over an hour—and while she was grateful for the closeness, it worried her. It wasn't like their girl to be this shy and subdued with either of them, but to be honest, she and Stef had been noticing a reappearance in the behavior over the past several days. Perhaps in denial due to some of the strides Callie had made, Lena had tried to push it from her mind.

"You're alright," Lena said quietly, managing to make eye contact with their daughter. Callie's body language reminded her so much of Jude's at their first family therapy appointment. Too timid to greet the psychologist, he had buried himself into her arm to hide.

She reached over Stef to place her iPad on the nightstand and pecked her on the cheek on the way back before returning her attention to Callie. "Well, we did a lot, didn't we?" She had learned early on that some nudging would be required if there was to be any hope of getting participation, especially when their daughter wasn't feeling up to it. "I learned…that Miss Callie reads a lot of X...CKD. Did I get that right?"

Callie smiled shyly at her, her face lighting up at mention of her favourite webcomic. "X ** _K_** CD," she whispered.

"Oops," Lena said apologetically. Her daughter giggled before becoming somber once again. "What else, honey? We watched a couple short documentaries…one was on sea creatures of the deep. The other was about carnivorous plants."

Stef forced her expression into one of deep interest. " _Wow_ …so, which did you like more, Cal?"

"Sea creatures," came the muffled reply.

"Ah, of course," Stef said. She couldn't forget the siblings' request of Bill—if they could go to a pet store on a future visit so they could look at the aquariums. "Did you watch anything else?" she asked. "I thought I heard music playing."

"Macklemore," Callie mumbled.

"Oh! Mama and l like his music."

Getting the sense the conversation was stalling, Lena tried to facilitate. "There were some trailers for movies Callie might be interested in seeing. I think we'll be able to get most of them through Netflix."

"Oh, yeah? Which ones?" the cop asked. She winked at Callie, hoping to elicit a smile from her. _Anything_. She wasn't ready to give up just yet, but was grasping at straws to figure out how to make any sort of connection.

The girl shrugged and remained silent. She knew what her foster moms were trying to do and she wasn't going to fall for it.

Hope fading at Callie's dejected demeanour, Stef sighed inwardly. It wasn't unusual for their daughter to keep her distance after getting into a disagreement with either of them. Not til they reassured her of her place in the family. But this was different. Callie looked thoroughly discouraged.

As she searched Callie's face for answers, a few tears escaped, which her daughter didn't bother to wipe away.

 _Something wasn't quite right._

"Callie?" she murmured. "Tell us what's wrong. Please?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Next up, a mega-update


	43. Truth and Reconciliation

**Author Note:**

A tough chapter to write but nonetheless so much growth for Callie and both of the moms. Everyone gains a new perspective here. Lena discovers her confidence and the boundaries of her own comfort; Stef learns patience; and Callie finds herself in an environment safe enough that she can speak.

This is the seventh version, with the help of **theypreferthetermpeople** to finesse the final content.

As always, thanks so much for the support; I love hearing from you and it makes me happy to know people are still following this story. You all are the best, and I hope you stick around even after the show ends! Love, ~b

* * *

Leaving Lena's side of the bed, Stef scooted over so she could sit facing their daughter. Their talk was about to get a whole lot harder but that was unavoidable.

One thing they had learned about Callie was that she was more forthcoming whenever she was at her most vulnerable. It was then that the fight would give way to the fragility beneath and she would lay her armour down. The tricky part was the dance between giving her enough space to feel safe but not waiting too long. If they let her pull herself completely back together, Callie would clam up again and the opportunity to hear her speak was lost. This was why neither of the women were willing to let this sit overnight.

Lena drew in a nervous breath as she steeled her resolve to lead the discussion. While their daughter had been engrossed in the iPad, she and Stef had furiously texted back and forth—deciding on their strategy during the little privacy they had. Given Callie had been so angry with Stef earlier, they'd both agreed it needed to be her. She just hoped it would go well.

"Sweetheart?" she began, addressing her daughter directly. "Are you afraid that if you make mistakes or get in trouble with us that Mom and I might ask you to leave?"

The small shrug that came within the safety of Lena's arms told her that their interpretation was correct.

"Because we promise you that is not going to happen. There are consequences, but getting rid of you—or anyone else in this family for that matter—is not one of them," Lena continued. "That needs to be clear," she affirmed before giving Stef a slight nod to jump in.

"This is your home, for as long as you need it to be. Even when you're all grown up and moved out." Aware of how long it'd taken Lena to calm Callie down, she spoke in a soothing undertone. She wasn't going to risk doing anything that would upset her again. "It's understandable if you're holding out for things to be official to rest easy but Mama and I have always, _always_ intended for our home to be a permanent place for you and Jude. All the moving around stops here, remember?" she pleaded, drawing on language they'd used with the children before.

That this needed pointing out filled her with grief and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.

Callie shot her a deflated look, unsure if she believed that. Even if she were adopted, there was no guarantee they wouldn't kick her out if she kept messing up. Juvie was filled with kids thrown out by their real parents.

"Us wanting you to be part of this family is unconditional. We don't keep score of things that have gone wrong, then decide you're not worth it when the going gets tough. It doesn't work that way, sweetness," Stef emphasized, struggling to explain this in a way that would be understandable to the child. Something about the manner in which past misbehaviour had been brought up deeply bothered her; Callie had been frantic—desperate—to explain herself. It hadn't been until her shower that she realized why: their daughter thought there was a chance they were still upset with her.

"You're ours."

 _Yeah. Until you decide I'm not_ , Callie wished she could say. Stef was such a fake.

"You've got to let go of this guilt. You made some choices we would've much rather you hadn't but you're a good kid with your whole future ahead of you." Stef smiled warmly at the girl, wanting her to be able to forgive herself. "You are worth so much more than your actions, Bug. You're not disposable."

"You don't believe us, though," Lena interrupted softly, surprising herself with her bluntness. She would regret it if Callie withdrew but this was too important to let go without taking that risk.

Right away, her daughter's gaze flicked up to meet her's. And that was when she saw it: all of the fear that what they were telling her couldn't possibly be true.

" _Callie…_ You don't believe us," Lena said sympathetically. "That's what's making this hard, isn't it?" The girl gave a slight nod of her head, clearly uncomfortable. "It's okay. It's not anything to feel bad about," she said as her daughter's chin began to tremble. Worried that they would hit an impasse—or worse, that the upset would morph into complete distress—Lena decided to create space to abate some of the apprehensiveness before attempting to convince her otherwise. So instead of speaking, she focused on rubbing Callie's shoulder, reassuring her everything would be alright.

Lena was about to lose hope that their daughter would give them more to go on when Callie broke the silence between them.

"Just Mom."

The words were barely a whisper—such that, had Lena not had Callie right beside her, she would've missed them. Frowning, she forced herself not to overreact and to wait a bit before proceeding. The reply did not sit well with her at all.

"What about Mom, honey?" Lena pressed. Something about the way Callie had directed that statement at her—as if only meant for her ears—gave the impression her daughter was somewhat shy about what she had uttered. And not quite ready to talk to Stef about it.

Afraid Callie would pull away, she cupped her chin up towards her. "Do you mean that you believe me, but not Mom?" She held her breath, waiting for Callie to admit what she already suspected.

After what seemed like a long time, Callie shrugged, giving Lena all the confirmation she needed.

"You don't think Mom wants you," Lena said. This time, it wasn't a question and her daughter did not dispute it.

Lena hummed thoughtfully as she locked gazes with her wife. Seeing Stef open her mouth to respond, she shook her head to dissuade her. As difficult as it was to refrain from refuting her daughter's belief, those feelings—no matter how faulty—needed to be validated.

Understanding what was being requested of her, Stef got up and took her time smoothing out the duvet cover before sitting back down—one leg crossed underneath her while the other dangled off the bed. Now closer to Callie, she took the small hands into her own and clasped them together. Her daughter looked down, fear and sadness clouding her expression.

"I want you. I have wanted, with all my heart, for you to be a part of this family since that very first week you came to live with us," Stef said. She fought back tears, becoming emotional at the memory of the exact moment she knew without a doubt that Callie and Jude belonged with them. That she and Lena would be petitioning the court for adoption.

To learn that her child didn't accept this despite repeated attempts to reassure her was discouraging.

"I wish there was something we could do so that you believe me. So you believe _us_ when we say this is permanent. That there is nothing that can change our mind. _Nothing_ ," she emphasized, wishing so much for Callie to be able to see that.

"I know it's hard… you've had your trust broken so many times. And Mama and I _know_ you must be getting tired of fighting for a permanent place to live, when you've deserved one and have been waiting for one for so long. So now it's our turn, honey, to fight for you. But you have to let us. You've got to _trust_ that we've got this—that we've got _you._ "

She was discouraged by the wariness Callie was regarding her with. The girl's insecurity had always been problematic but it had returned with a vengeance tonight and she was at a loss as to what else they could be doing about it.

"You are so loved," she began, confused as her child suddenly became sullen.

Irritated, Callie yanked her hands away. "I _said_ I don't _want_ you to _say_ that!"

For a second time that night, Stef could only stare wordlessly—stunned that a statement like that could hurt as much as it did. "I… I'm sorry," she said, clearing the hoarseness in her throat as her emotions threatened to spill over.

"Why does that upset you?" Lena questioned. "It's okay not to be ready to say or hear that. But we need your help understanding so we can make sure we're not using language that makes you uncomfortable without meaning to," she explained, hoping to offset the possibility of another tantrum.

Callie gave a small shrug. " _Because_."

 _Because… it was a trick._ It wasn't fair to say you loved someone when you didn't really want them at all.

"Honey, we need a little more than that." Convinced they were on the verge of a breakthrough, Lena had no intention of letting this go. "Explain," she insisted, giving her daughter's arm a gentle squeeze.

"Because she doesn't," Callie muttered.

Giving her wife a look of concern, Lena continued to question her. "Mom doesn't what? Love you?"

Her heart went out to Stef when their daughter eventually nodded. If it troubled her to hear this revelation, she could only imagine how her wife was handling this. The both of them had always presumed Callie's discomfort around them stemmed from trying to avoid getting too close to them—not because she believed they didn't love her. If anything, they had been more than diligent in telling Callie and Jude that they loved them every night when they tucked them in.

"Oh, honey… _no_ …" Stef breathed, shocked by what she was learning. "Where on earth would you get an idea like that, Cal?" Stef gathered her thoughts, trying to figure out how to make her child hear her. "My love, if you think for one _second_ that I've spent all these months absolutely beside myself with worry over you—because I don't _love_ you—" She paused, having a hard time keeping it together. "If you _think_ there's anything you can do to make me not want you, then, I'm sorry Callie, but you have a lot more thinking to do!" she said as her voice cracked with emotion.

It upset her that as a parent, you couldn't win. They had been diligent in their efforts to not only show their love to Callie and being open about the adoption, but to keep her in line—precisely so they _wouldn't_ lose her. How their daughter had managed to conclude exactly the opposite of that was confounding.

"You're lying!" Callie retorted.

"That is not helpful," Lena interjected calmly. Now they were getting somewhere. She placed a hand on Stef's knee, a subtle plea for patience. Another storm was edging closer and she felt wholly unprepared for it. "There is a reason you do not believe Mom and you need to tell us why."

But reeling from how her daughter had withdrawn from her, Stef's tolerance for Callie's reluctance to engage was quickly diminishing. "Are you mad at me for punishing you? Because I _spanked_ you? _What, Callie_?" she said forcefully, frustration causing her to be harsher than she intended.

Shocked by the admonishment, Callie attempted to sidle up closer to Lena. It wasn't fair. Whenever she wasn't as forthcoming as the cop expected from her, she'd get reamed out. But if it was Stef hiding stuff, all of a sudden it didn't matter.

She wasn't at all prepared for Lena to catch her by the shoulders and hold her away. "No..." Callie whined as she was prevented from returning to the comfortable position they'd been in. She shook her head frantically, in disbelief over her foster mom's reaction. Now Lena didn't want her either. " _No_!"

While it was counterintuitive not to immediately respond to her daughter's needs, Lena maintained her grasp, stripping away Callie's opportunity to hide from them. It pained her to see the child so distraught and she hated doing this, but she was determined to get some answers. Callie would not be getting what she wanted until she was honest with them.

Catching Stef's sadness and confusion, Lena almost reconsidered what she was doing. Up til this moment, she would have never considered denying any of her children a hug because they weren't doing what was being asked of them. Especially not when they needed to be comforted. But this seemed like her only option and for the first time, she could truly empathize with her wife for resorting to something she wasn't fully comfortable with.

"Mama— _no_! I'm sorry! _Sorry_!"

Unable to stop her mind from delving into what Lena's actions might mean for her, Callie began to panic.

" _Shh_. Sh—sh— _shh_ ," Lena soothed in calming staccato as desperation filled her daughter's cries. "There's no need to be sorry. No one is going anywhere," she reassured, understanding the distress. "But you need to try and talk to us. That's all we're asking."

Desperate to get away, Callie tried pulling away; however, her foster mom wasn't letting go.

"No. You are right where you need to be right now. I meant it when I said no one is going anywhere," Lena said, sterner this time. She hated that it had come to this—that her willingness to respond to Callie's needs was suddenly conditional. But they were so close to having their answer that she wouldn't give up now.

As it would turn out, her hunch was correct.

Realizing that she was not going to win, Callie finally spoke. "Because...it's confusing."

"What is?" Stef asked, immediately softening. Equally as determined as Lena for more answers, she ducked her head for some eye contact with their daughter. The girl was telling Lena but this was obviously about her and Callie. "Up here," she said, turning Callie's chin back towards her when she averted her gaze. "What's confusing?" she begged.

Callie hesitated before accepting that saying the truth out loud wouldn't change how Stef felt about her. "Because it's not fair that you're trying to get me to like you. You're not allowed to do that," she said in a small voice.

"We're not trying to make you like us…" Lena started before realizing that Callie was no longer addressing her. None of this made sense but she was relieved their daughter had given them something to work with.

Feeling like she had no choice but to keep going, Callie gathered her courage. "I know I'm not what you expected… I made you disappointed," she said, a distant tremor to her words. "And you sh—shouldn't have to be nice when—when that's how you feel. It's not f—fair to you a—and to m—me, either." She stopped, forcing herself to take a deep breath as she squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't going to cry in front of them if she could help it.

Still not understanding, Stef could only hope Callie would keep talking.

Finally, with a stoicism that suggested she was preparing to distance herself from the emotional riptide behind what she was about to say, Callie laid down her truth. "It's not fair that you're trying to get me to like you when you don't even want me," she managed before gluing her chin back to her chest.

The women exchanged bewildered looks, shocked by what they were hearing. They had just finished explaining to their daughter that she was very much was. What was it that was stopping her from believing them?

"Wha—what did you say?" Stef asked. " _Cal_. I want you—" she tried again before being cut off.

Callie shook her head. "But you didn't always!" she said as she sniffed back tears. There was no anger there—no fight. Only a sad sort of resignation about the situation.

"Sweetheart, why do you think that?" Lena interjected, shaking her gently to get her to focus. Slowly but surely, they were making progress but still didn't have all the details they needed.

A sob burst helplessly from Callie's lips. "Cause Mom—M—Mom—she _said_ she _didn't_! She regrets me," she said, looking at Lena as a deep shudder echoed through her body.

As Lena fumbled to come up with a response to take some of the pressure off her wife, Callie turned her attention back to Stef. Her somber expression was quickly swirling into a storm.

"You _lied_! You said to Ma—ma _you_ sh—hould've reported me for what I did so I'd get t—taken a—away so I would—n't live here any—more!" Callie said, choking on ragged breaths as the words tumbled out.

She couldn't remember the exact words but it'd been something like that. She had repeated them to herself countless times since that evening, when she stood at the back door deciding how to come back inside. Trying to figure out how she would act normal now that she had discovered how Stef really felt about her.

A fresh bout of tears streamed down her cheeks as fear gave way to fury. "You—you—said—I was _done_! When Mike brought me home you said I was _DONE_! You _didn't_ w—want me f—from _then_!" Callie screamed, angry at Stef for her confusion. There was no way Stef could deny this. Yet, the cop was shaking her head.

" _Out_ — _SIDE_!" She struggled to catch her breath as the knot of disappointment and betrayal within unravelled. "But _I_ _wanted_ to believe you! _I_ _WANTED_ to stay a—and _YOU_ changed your mind af—ter you said I c—could. And—and you can't _DO_ that! Be—cause I was starting to—I WAS STARTING TO BELIEVE YOU. **YOU DON'T GET TO** _DO_ **THAT**!" she blubbered. Wrenching herself away from Lena, she clamped her hand over her mouth as her stomach turned inside out, causing her to gag.

Lena hurried to grab the tissues off the nightstand. This wouldn't be the first time Callie had become so upset that she made herself sick, and she felt guilty for letting it get this far by waiting to comfort her daughter. "Oh, honey," she said, letting out a sigh as another dry heave interrupted the broken cries.

Embarrassed that this was the moment her body was choosing to revolt against her, Callie covered her face with her palms. It'd hurt so much more than she had imagined to tell them. But at least now it was out there and she wouldn't have to walk around with all of that on her heart anymore.

Lena gently pulled Callie's arms down. "Don't do that. Don't hide." This was a habit of both Callie and Jude's she had been trying to break, so they would understand their home was where they could express their emotions safely.

Folding a Kleenex in half, she held it up to her daughter's mouth and instructed her to spit. When she finished, Lena grabbed a fresh tissue and began to dry her cheeks. Callie let her, looking absolutely bereft as she shook through double-breaths in the aftermath of the storm.

"No more crying…shh... _shhhh_."

 _Of course. Their argument._ She thought she had heard these exact sentiments in another context before.

When her attempts to console her daughter fell flat, Lena sat back against the headboard and wrapped an arm around her, cradling her close. Initially, Callie tried to pull away but with gentle persistence, she stilled and her crying lessened.

As she wondered what she could say, Lena rested her cheek against her daughter's hair. She was frustrated with Callie for eavesdropping but didn't have the heart to scold her right now. "You know what, honey? I am so proud that you chose to talk to Mom and I. Nothing about that was easy. It took a lot of strength and courage to speak up."

She couldn't believe Callie had walked around with the weight of Stef's words for weeks without so much as a word. No wonder her insecurity had hit a fever pitch.

"You're right. Mom did say that, didn't she?" Lena agreed as she sighed sympathetically. Pressing a kiss to the thick waves, she looked grimly at Stef to see if her wife understood how this misunderstanding had evolved. She wasn't interested in disputing it right away because whether or not this was true was irrelevant. They'd be getting to that soon enough. What mattered was that Callie was convinced that it was.

Disappointed, Callie realized that a small part of her had been holding out for Lena to say she was wrong. That she had heard wrong and it was all a huge mistake.

Lena watched her wife's expression change from one of surprise to betrayal. For a split second, she was hopeful that Stef might have grasped what had caused their daughter to come up with the conclusion she had. Unfortunately, now it was obvious that Stef was completely unaware of her own culpability.

Annoyed by how readily Lena had agreed with their daughter over something she couldn't recall ever saying, Stef shot a perturbed glance in her direction. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding. "Cal. I don't think I ever said that. I wouldn't say that," she tried to explain before falling silent.

 _What the hell?_ Stef mouthed, throwing her hands up in irritation when Lena shook her head slowly. She had no idea what she'd done, but her wife was clearly furious.

"Seriously, Stef? _Don't_ ," Lena said angrily as she glowered at the woman. Disconcerted by their exchange, Callie had dissolved back into sobs. She blamed Stef for that, too.

Part of why she had discouraged Stef from arguing was because she knew that denying what Callie had overheard would only make things worse. But more than that, her irritation was quickly reaching a boiling point. This wasn't the first time Stef's sarcasm had caused hurt feelings amongst their children, though it'd become less of a problem as they grew older. Now they were able to tolerate and even appreciate their Mom's humour. But it hadn't always been like that. For a long time, B, Mariana, and Jesus took their mother's remarks seriously in the way young children often did. Personally.

However, Stef had forgotten about their newest children. Of course Callie had taken the comments literally and misinterpreted things. Given that she was thirteen, it was easy to forget that some aspects of her socioemotional development wasn't on par with her age yet.

"Baby girl…" Lena soothed as she stroked Callie's hair. "I am guessing that you listened in on a conversation that you knew was not meant for your ears," she said softly so the girl wouldn't mistake her correction as anger. "Something private. And maybe that was why you weren't so keen on coming to us."

Callie stared at her, astonished.

"This was the afternoon Mom helped you in the garage with your cassettes, am I right? She had agreed to give you some time out there by yourself before dinner," Lena continued, more to jog her wife's memory than for Callie. She cocked an expectant brow at Stef, waiting for her to clue in. It took every ounce of self control not to huff in irritation when she realized her wife still didn't get it. Her forgetfulness was astounding.

Hiccupping, the girl nodded sadly.

Still concerned by Callie's dysregulated breathing, Lena rubbed her back. "Mom and I were having a pretty big disagreement, weren't we?" She kept the details vague on purpose to avoid divulging more than she needed to. She and Stef had a right to their privacy, too.

"Some of what you heard was said in sarcasm when we got frustrated with each other," Lena explained, continuing to glare at her wife intermittently. "Let me finish," she warned when Callie tried to argue. "Mom did not mean for what she was saying to be taken literally—or seriously. I know because there were two people involved in that conversation, from beginning to end, and I was one of them. You were not there for its entirety, Callie. In fact, I'm guessing you only heard a snapshot of it, but I can understand why it was easy to take out of context."

Callie wasn't sure she understood. _Why did it matter that it was only some of what they were talking about?_ To her, the words still held the same meaning. She was about to ask but bit her tongue; Lena had made it clear that she was expected to listen and not talk back right now.

The cop drew in a swift breath as the familiarity of her daughter's words finally hit her. "Oh, _no_ , _Bug…no, no, no_ ," she gasped, the gravity of what had transpired sinking in. She reached for Callie's hand, grateful when she didn't recoil from her this time. "I am so sorry."

After having left Callie in the garage with a working tape player, she had gone inside to debrief the meeting with Lena. Shortly after that, they had started arguing when the topic of filing an incident report for the corporal punishment that had taken place in their home had been brought up again. Lena viewed her vehement opposition to reporting as blatant dishonesty and disregard of the policies around fostering—but despite her anger, her wife had been respectful. She, on the other hand, had bitten back and gotten snarky.

Although she was certain she hadn't uttered the words Callie had attributed to her, she also couldn't remember exactly what had been said. She did, however, have no doubt that it had sounded every bit as genuine and mean as what Callie had repeated. It was a situation in which semantics didn't matter. Because the end result was the same: she had hurt her child by making her feel worthless and unloved. An inconvenience she couldn't wait to rid herself of.

Her words had only been meant for Lena, but her guilt over the distress it had caused her daughter was all-consuming. She wished she had never said those things at all. Privacy assumed or not, she had been wrong.

"Mama's right. We were having a private conversation and unfortunately started arguing. I was being incredibly sarcastic when I became frustrated—that was how I chose to deal with it and I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Not only was she dismayed Callie had listened to the comments about her, but that she had heard her speaking to her spouse the way she had. "I was disrespectful. Period. I shouldn't have said those things about you or talked to Mama the way I did. I—I feel terrible that you thought I meant them, because I did _not_ , Callie."

In recent weeks, it seemed all she had done was remind Callie that she had lost their trust. It never occurred to her that she had managed to lose Callie's faith in her. That she would potentially never get it back was a tough pill to swallow.

"Yes, I was disappointed and angry with you. Yes, you had scared me half to death with some of your choices. But I have never regretted you. Nor have I ever wished for you to be taken away from us. Not once," she said, becoming distraught over the possibility that her explanation might not be accepted.

Stef paused as she tried to make eye contact with the girl. "Please—please tell me what you're thinking," she begged when Callie remained silent. Wanting to hear her say something, she cupped her daughter's cheeks between her palms. "Sweetness, this is not something we can just stop talking about. You thought I didn't _want_ you?" she said, her voice pitching with desperation.

As a parent, the idea of any of their children being removed from their home was terrifying. When it came to Callie, she had vowed to herself to do everything she could to prevent that from happening. So it hurt knowing that Callie believed she wanted her to be taken away.

"You could not have been more wrong, baby," she replied, the words catching in her throat at the defeated nod her daughter gave her. "What have I always told you? No matter what sort of trouble you're in or how upset we may be with you, our love for you doesn't change. It's unconditional.

"We don't…throw people away like they don't matter, Bug," she whispered, choking back tears as she realized how counterintuitive this concept might be for Callie, especially since it went against what had been ingrained in her by previous caregivers. Finding it not only difficult to formulate her words but to speak at all, Stef was forced to stop for a moment.

"There is nothing— _nothing_ you can do that would make me not want you. I would never wish for you to not be a part of this family. Ever. Do you— _hear—_ me, _Callie_?"

Heart in her mouth, she watched the girl chew her bottom lip, scrutinizing her. Possibly wondering if she was telling her the truth.

"I—I need an answer, Callie girl," she said, no longer able to hide the fact that she was crying.

She was waiting for some sort of verbal acknowledgment to gauge her daughter's level of understanding in all of this and to find out where they stood. Anything that would indicate where they were at in terms of trust so she knew how to start fixing this.

"I _need_ an _ANSWER_ from you!" she repeated, more forcefully this time when the girl refused to say anything. Her voice cracked in anguish, rendering her a stranger to herself. "I _need_ to _KNOW_ , _Callie_!"

Callie flinched, startled by her foster mom's abruptness and the emotional distortion in her words that made her suddenly unrecognizable. "I _know_. _I_ _KNOW_!" she shouted as she began to cry in earnest. Annoyed by the way her body had reacted, she pulled away from Stef.

After taking in what they had to say, she trusted them. Everything that they'd told her checked out and she could not think of any other reason to doubt them. But a deep sense of foolishness for having misinterpreted what she'd heard—as well as being called out for eavesdropping was pushing her relief into an uncomfortable territory where embarrassment preyed upon feelings of inadequacy.

"Is this why you became so angry with Mom when she said she loved you?" Lena questioned. She could read Callie well enough to understand that she was self-conscious and hoped the distraction would help. "You thought she didn't want you and she didn't deserve to say that if that was the case. It hurt your feelings," she said knowingly. Initially, she had struggled to understand, but the answer was apparent now. Callie had managed to tell them everything they needed to be able to put the pieces together.

Her daughter nodded shyly before snuggling closer. Guessing that was all she would be getting for an answer, Lena was about to prompt her when Callie elaborated.

"Yeah…it did. 'Cause it's not fair," Callie said, her anger right away softening with Lena's calmness. She swallowed the lump in her throat at the reminder of all those mixed up feelings as she tried to explain herself. "I guess I was starting to get excited. No one's liked me enough to keep me before. So it was special to think about staying here," she admitted.

Feeling awkward, she fingered the edge of the blanket she had over her. Being _in care_ , they never got to pick their families. It almost always came down to who was willing to take them—wherever Bill brought them. But she had come to the realization that she really liked the idea of being able to pick Stef and Lena to be her family. And they had given both her and Jude that opportunity, simply by asking them if they were okay with being adopted. She had wanted this to work out.

Callie took a deep breath and averted her gaze, not sure what else to say. "Something like that."

"It makes me so happy that you were excited, love. Because Mom and I would like nothing more than for you to stay with us forever, and it's special for us to hear you were excited about that, too. But I can see why that would make it even more hurtful to think Mom didn't want you. Why it didn't seem fair," Lena empathized as she smoothed the girl's hair. "But you know it's not true, right? Mom did not mean for her words to be taken seriously."

Seeing her wife try to inconspicuously wipe her eyes, Lena knew Stef was struggling. She extended her leg under the blanket so it connected with Stef's, letting her know she was there. They would get through this together.

The cop gave her a rueful look at the gesture of support. "Bug. I'm glad you chose to tell us but I am so sorry that you kept this to yourself this whole time. That's some heavy stuff to have been carrying on your own. I can't imagine what that must've been like for you." They could have saved her so much grief if they'd known.

"I wish I could've told you," Callie conceded. "I guess, I just kinda got stuck on how to change your mind."

"Change our minds about what?" Stef asked.

Callie fidgeted, feeling foolish at what she was about to admit to. If they had talked earlier, she would've felt a lot better. "About maybe not adopting me anymore. I...I figured that if I could be better for you...like if I wasn't as big a problem, you'd be okay with me staying."

"I'm going to stop you right there, Cal. Because that's not how things work around here. Mama and I, we never had conditions on your adoption. It was always our intention to follow through and continues to be."

"I know." Callie blew out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. It was nice to be reminded.

"Do you have any questions about anything we've talked about?" Lena asked after they'd sat together for awhile. She could tell there was a question brewing in the girl.

This time, Callie didn't hesitate to bring up what was on her mind. "How come you guys were fighting about me?" she asked curiously. Stef and Lena didn't argue. Sometimes they'd rag on each other, but it usually didn't seem to be a big deal. That day was the first time she had discovered them fighting.

Stef smiled painfully at Callie before glancing at her wife for guidance. She always preferred honesty with the children but also worried that at thirteen, their daughter wasn't mature enough to hear everything and that she might try to use their disagreement about discipline to her advantage.

Lena nodded at Stef, encouraging her to go ahead. She also had her concerns but believed being open with Callie for the sake of building trust would be best.

"Well, you know how Mama and I like to talk about everything?" Stef began. "She wasn't too happy that you had gotten a spanking without it being discussed between us. We were…talking about our feelings about that and ended up arguing. It happens sometimes," she explained patiently. There was no reason to get into any more than that. Guessing what Callie was probably thinking and needing to set her straight, she turned the girl's face towards her. "This was not your fault, sweetness. Mama and I may have had an argument about you but you were not to blame for it. Understand?" she clarified, reassured at the answer, a mumbled " _Yeah_."

It was an important point because given the chance, she was convinced Callie would take blame for their fight. And tonight was a reminder that Callie was so internalizing that it was on them to anticipate potential misunderstandings—not the other way around.

Her concern stemmed from her own parents' separation. While it'd happened decades ago, she still remembered her guilt over their explosive fights and her inclination to interrupt with a question or joke—anything to burst the tension. The overwhelming pressure to behave, to give her father one less reason to blame her mom, to avoid making an already fragile situation worse. How crushed she was when he finally walked out… because she hadn't been a good enough reason for him to stay.

Cheeks burning at the reminder of the consequence for going into the gun safe, Callie moved slightly away from Lena. "Are you…still mad at Mom?" she asked worriedly. She had had a feeling that Lena was angry at Stef after, but apart from that nothing seemed amiss.

"No, honey. We talked about it and aren't upset with each other anymore," Lena said, attune to the sudden anxiety. She was careful to use language to indicate their frustrations had been more mutual than one-sided. "That's the beauty of family. We might have moments when we aren't our best towards one another but ultimately, we still support and care for and can forgive them." She hoped there was a lesson somewhere in there that they could reflect on and use to move forward.

The girl's protectiveness of Stef was endearing. It hadn't been long since Callie had been angry with the cop. Yet Callie still worried about where the two adults in her life stood in terms of their relationship with each other.

"I'll understand if you're still mad at me, Bug…but I hope that you'll forgive me. When you're ready to," Stef offered. Callie had every right to be mad and she wasn't going to push her.

Her daughter looked up, surprised. "I'm not mad anymore," she said softly.

"You're not?" Stef questioned, wondering if she was being told what she wanted to hear.

Callie shook her head. After the women's explanation and learning that she'd been wrong, she was feeling better. Now that she thought about it, the cop did often tease them by saying things she didn't mean but it was always done in fun and not anger. She hadn't considered that sarcasm could also be angry, and now felt embarrassed by the whole situation. Stef hadn't really done anything wrong; she'd been telling the truth the entire time.

"No. I…I just…" She trailed off, her mind onto something else.

Noticing the knit forming in the girl's brow, Lena nudged her in the side. "What are you thinking about, Callie girl?" That was enough to snap her attention back to them.

"Huh? Oh...it's just…Mom said stuff she didn't mean because she was angry…and that was sarcastic," Callie said slowly, as if reconsidering their explanation. She then shifted her attention to Stef. "But when we say stuff we don't mean because we're mad, we get told off because that's mouthing off or giving you lip," she said, using air quotes to make her point. The double standard had not been missed on her. "I just wish you weren't so hypocritical."

"Yes, love. That—you are absolutely right. It's not fair—" Stef stammered. She was quailing under her daughter's disapproving scowl, trying to guess if it was something Callie had managed to pick up from her or from Lena. _Was that really how they came across when they were angry?_

Callie narrowed her gaze at the cop. It was not funny. " _You_ were giving Mama _lip_!" she said, flabbergasted at what she'd put together.

Lena had to try and hide her amusement. Her wife, rendered speechless, had apparently not been expecting to be in the hot seat over this. Of all things to have taken away from their conversation, it was so much like Callie to pick up on how Stef's actions had affected someone other than herself—even though it had been her feelings that had gotten hurt. It was endearing, but also spoke to how Callie was used to putting herself last. They would need to work on that.

"I hadn't thought about it that way…" Stef admitted, feeling uncomfortable at having raised Callie's ire. She blew out a breath, forcing herself to set aside her pride for the sake of turning this into a teachable moment in grace and humility for the child. "That's a good point. I was giving Mama lip and she did not deserve that from me. And you didn't, either," she fumbled, regretting her temper all over again. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could take it back."

"Yes, it may have been unintentional but it was still disrespectful. That's why, from now on, Mom is going to be more careful with her words, because no one deserves that," Lena chimed in, trying very hard not to laugh as she looked expectantly at Stef. She winked at Callie, prompting a grin to spread across her young face for the first time since Stef had joined them.

"What's so funny?" Stef demanded, not missing Callie's glee. Still, it was a nice reprieve from Callie's unrelenting glare.

"You got in _trouble_ with Mama!"

"Yes. Thank _you_ , Callie," the cop replied as sternly as she could. Pinching the bridge of her nose to distract from the prickle in her sinuses, she hoped this would be the end of their discussion. It was getting harder to keep her composure intact and she was sure if she talked anymore she would really be crying. The evening had been rough but it was Callie's forgiving nature, as well as her concern and protectiveness for her and Lena, that had done a number on her emotions. Callie cared for them deeply.

Taken aback by the slight break in the woman's voice, Callie flicked a cautious glance her direction. She caught the watery smile and in a fleeting moment of realization, understood she was the one responsible for Stef's sadness.

"I'm not mad." She withdrew her lip into her mouth before eying her foster mom once again. Doubtful those words had succeeded in making her feel any better, she left her comfortable position beside Lena and scooted over.

"Don't cry, Mom. I forgive you," Callie said, her expression somber.

" _Bug_ …" Stef's breath caught in her throat. With the direction things had been heading in earlier that evening, she had not anticipated forgiveness at all. Negotiating the unexpected arms around her to help her sweet child into her lap, she held her tight—taking solace in the fact that Callie was allowing her to.

Stef rested her cheek against the girl's, finally allowing her tears to fall without restraint. From this angle, she could see Lena's hand pressed to her chest, overwhelmed by the tenderness and concern inherent in Callie's actions.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asked, squeezing her daughter a little in her arms. While it was a relief that they were alright, she still needed to know about Callie.

This time, when the girl nodded, she was convinced her affirmation was genuine. As though Callie finally had the level of security both she and Lena had always hoped for her.

For the first time, light had come in through cracks in the tunnel they'd been in—allowing the both of them to see what had been going on and to understand their daughter a little bit better. Because up until now, everything they knew about her insecurity had been an assumption—theorized by everyone but Callie and imposed on her. It helped explain some things in general but failed to tell her story. But now that the missing piece had been spoken for, they had some background that could help them avoid triggering Callie's deep-seated fear of rejection. Their relationship could grow on a foundation of greater trust and understanding. And making progress would no longer be a battle in which the majority of energy was spent on gentle handling of fragile trust.

That was the hope, at least.

"I care about you so much, honey. And I always will, whether you want me to or not, because that's part of our job as parents." It pained her to avoid the word _love_ but she had to respect Callie's boundary. "You're stuck with me, kiddo. I'm sorry but that's the way it is," Stef said, her breath hitching.

"I will have you know, _young_ _lady_ —" she continued before clamping a hand over her mouth to suppress a sob. "You may not have grown under my heart…but you grew in it," she whispered, barely able to utter her words.

"What now?" she snapped once she regained her composure, slightly hurt when Callie snorted with laughter.

"You're cheesy," the girl managed. Not confident she could keep a neutral expression, she bit her lip.

"What was that?" Stef asked, pretending not to have heard in the way one does when feigning offence.

Callie flashed a mischievous smile before wrapping her arms around her foster mom again and resting her head on her shoulder. Stef was teary, but she knew the woman was happier now.

"I said, my Mom is cheesy."

* * *

"No way," Stef griped when she came back in. In the time that it had taken her to wash her face and get a glass of water, Callie had drifted off. Slumped against Lena, the two of them were smack-dab in the middle of the bed, leaving less than two feet of space on either side. There had been no teeth brushing and the vitamin sat untouched on the bedside table.

While nothing made her happier than Callie feeling safe enough to fall asleep in their bed, tonight had left her completely drained and her nerves shot. All she wanted was to cuddle up next to Lena and be reassured that she wasn't nearly as terrible a person as she felt she was. And that their daughter would be okay.

"She's light. I bet I could get her into her bed without waking her up," Stef said hopefully. "She'll be more comfortable there anyway."

"Mm _hm_ , I'm sure you would be more comfortable with Callie in her own bed, too," Lena said, making it clear she wouldn't be diverting her attention from the iPad anytime soon. She was not amused by that suggestion; with Callie's poor sleep lately, she wasn't willing to risk it. "Nice try, but you're not taking her anywhere." Plus, her wife deserved a little discomfort for her sarcastic ways. "I guess you will be taking Callie or B's bed tonight," she said with a smirk.

"But…those IKEA mattresses are awful for my back," Stef said, pouting despite being fully aware that she wouldn't be getting any sympathy. Her face lit up with an idea. "You know, I could always stay right here with you." She husked Lena's ear with determination, pleased when her efforts succeeded in softening her wife's frown.

Lena hit her on the arm as she tried not to laugh. " _Shh_! You're going to wake her up!" she scolded, feigning irritation before rewarding Stef with a kiss for her persistence.

Peering over Lena's shoulder, the cop looked fondly at their daughter. Callie was wedged in the woman's armpit, snoring away. It was difficult to believe this was the same pale, thin child who'd come into their lives only months ago. Since then, she had grown at least an inch and had put on some weight, filling out her face. Her complexion was noticeably brighter.

Stef let out a sigh. "Actually…I should probably sleep in B's bed. Think we need to keep an eye on our baby."

Lena was immediately concerned. "Something happen at Connor's?"

"No, no. Sounds like he had plenty of fun. He kept thanking me on the way home for letting him go over there." The cop laughed. "I had to remind him he'd only been allowed because of their class project," she added, referring to Jude still being grounded for hiding his assignments from them. Glancing over at Callie, she dropped her voice even though the girl's breaths were deep and evenly spaced with sleep. "He might be under some stress with everything going on, that's all. It was hard to tell but when I went to tuck him in, it looked like he might've had his fingers in his mouth." She hadn't said anything to him, of course; her dislike of the habit wasn't anything to shame him over.

"I'll check his hands tomorrow when I help him with his bath," Lena offered, not entirely sure what could be done if these behaviours soothed him. To be honest, she had been expecting some sort of regression so wasn't entirely surprised. Now and then, a sore spot would appear on his mouth that she guessed was from chewing the delicate skin.

"I think this one used to suck her thumb, too. For a while," she said, nodding at Callie. Their daughter had a slight open bite offset to the side that was only noticeable up close. "Can we afford braces?"

Stef shrugged. "Probably? We did them for Miss Thang. But she actually liked the dentist," she laughed, sharing an amused expression with her wife. "I mean…as long as it's aesthetic and not causing her any pain while eating, it'd be up to Callie if she would like them." Mariana had been offered the same option.

"That reminds me. We need to take her to Dr. Stone soon," Lena said. Callie was due at the dentist's. It had been easy to put off, in part because they worried about how it would go and because it had been less of a priority than getting her used to seeing their doctor.

Stef groaned. She had granted herself the convenience of forgetting about that. "Right."

"Speaking of Mariana, how was her evening?"

"The girls had an argument. She didn't say too much, I think she was holding out for her Mama."

"Not again…" Lena sighed. "I'll check in with her tomorrow."

Their two daughters made up a strange dichotomy. Mariana, though younger, was precocious and meeting many of the milestones they were hoping for Callie. She had a strong sense of identity with ideas of what she saw herself doing with her life. Much to Stef's chagrin, she was dying to enter puberty and would spend an absurd amount of time tending to her appearance. She also had an extensive social network comprised of relationships that she was invested in, at times overly so.

Callie, on the other hand, wasn't too bothered by how others saw her. As far as they knew, Wyatt was her only friend at school. While a lot of it probably had to do with having moved around so much and not wanting to get attached, she and Lena had learned Callie was also very introverted—content and preferring to be by herself. She also did well in school, but it wasn't connected to long-term goals beyond graduation. Getting her to plan for homework due each week was a struggle—anything that involved a timeline longer than that seemed to overwhelm her organizational capacity and was next to impossible for Callie to comprehend.

Grabbing the closest pillow, Lena carefully jammed it between herself and Callie so she could ease the girl onto the bed. Not comfortable taking her eyes off their daughter while they talked, she lay on her side, propping herself up on her forearm to look over her. At being shifted into a different position, Callie mumbled something incomprehensible but remained asleep.

"Maybe I need to call in sick and keep her home tomorrow," Lena murmured, brushing away the flyaways stuck to Callie's forehead. Her eyes were still puffy and raw from all the crying. "She seems so run down."

"I don't know, honey… She's missed a lot of school lately. What if she does really get sick?" Stef sighed knowingly; ninety-nine percent of the time, whenever her wife suggested this with any of their children, she already had her mind made up. "Maybe see how tonight goes and reevaluate in the morning? It would do her some good to be home with you, though. To get some rest and time alone with Mama." She rubbed Lena's back before letting her hands fall into an impromptu massage.

Stef blinked back tears as she leaned against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. She was grateful that the storm had passed but processing what had happened tonight troubled her in new ways. "I can't believe she kept this all to herself," she whispered so she wouldn't wake Callie. It'd been weeks since the blowup between herself and Lena.

Things were a whole lot clearer now. Callie's overwhelming guilt at every misstep and her sensitivity to anything that remotely resembled criticism, even in the form of slight reminders. The repeated apologies for the night terror having kept her up and the family's late start the next day. Why Callie had tearfully told Lena, " _Stef's mad,"_ when they found her crying in her room that night following Bill's visit. They thought it'd been a bad dream, triggered from the stress of the family meeting—but in hindsight, it was more likely that she had been referring to the argument between herself and Lena. It was why Callie had begged Jude not to ask Lena for help with his homework. So that he would be " _easy_ " enough for Lena to " _keep loving_ " him. It was probably why she'd been helping with his homework despite being warned not to. Why she had signed off on his assignments. Why, many days, their daughter appeared as though she was wandering around simply confused.

Some of Callie's mistakes had been decisions made from feeling cornered into them, and Stef's heart ached knowing that remarks she had made in a fit of anger towards Lena had preyed upon Callie's worries. Not understanding their love was unconditional, she had taken the words literally and had been convinced their home was no longer a sustainable living situation. That eventually they would renege on their promise to adopt her.

It explained the fear and resentment displayed in some of her interactions with them. As Callie had put it, by the time she had learned what she _thought_ Stef meant, she'd already started getting comfortable with the idea of staying with them. She wanted it to work out. Afraid of jeopardizing things any further, she had returned to walking on eggshells to try to stay out of their way and be on her best behaviour. If her ability to stay with them was conditional, Callie had been determined to turn it around. She was angry, though, at her perception of being misled and having been given a reason to doubt them.

This ambiguity of feelings formed the backdrop of episodes of clinginess—during which Callie didn't leave their side—which would just as quickly swing to withdrawal for no apparent reason. It was her wanting to accept them, then creating distance when she felt she was getting too close—an attempt at convincing herself she didn't need them in preparation for things to end. Why recently, despite excitedly telling them everything she wanted to do together as a family, she refused to participate in plans to make any of it a reality. In fact, Callie had been refusing to talk about the adoption at all.

"She's been so worried about doing something wrong and us getting rid of her," Stef said quietly. She had definitely caught a glimpse of her daughter's fears the afternoon they'd lost each other in the store parking lot—when Callie admitted to believing she'd been left behind with money and snacks. Stef had been incredulous at the time; although she appreciated the true extent of the girl's insecurity, it hadn't occurred to her how this anxiety had come about.

Lena nodded. "She's been trying so hard." The fast-rising anxiety had not gone unnoticed but neither of them could figure it out. She now understood that Callie had been desperate to show them that she was worth it, as Dr. Wiseman had explained. But like anyone her age, it'd been impossible to avoid mistakes. Over the last few weeks, Callie had begun to crumble under the pressure.

"That was all my fault, Lena. I can't believe she thought I didn't want her."

"It wasn't all on you, Stef. We were both arguing," Lena countered. There was no way they would have been as inflammatory with their remarks had they been aware of prying ears. "That conversation only went the way it did—well, and happened at _all_ —because we thought we had privacy."

It was a lesson in discretion for both of them. A reminder that, with five other pairs of ears around, they needed to be more selective about where and when their disagreements took place.

Lena stroked Callie's hair, prompting her to mumble in her sleep. "Baby girl also learned a tough lesson about listening in on others. Didn't you?" she asked, pressing a firm kiss to the brown curls to see if Callie would wake before they continued. They would be talking about this tomorrow.

"You should've seen her when I got in tonight. She was so afraid…" Stef began, aware that her wife probably had little idea of the events leading up to the meltdown. "She had destroyed her book and broken the lamp, and tried to stop me from going into her and Mari's room. There was debris under the bed but a lot of it was still all over the floor. I was cleaning it up and she snapped, Lena," she sighed. The attempt to hide the mess had been juvenile but she imagined it must have been the only solution Callie could come up with at the time.

Stef hesitated, remembering that there was another thing she needed to talk to her wife about. "Did she happen to mention that she left the house before I got home?"

"No," Lena said, drawing out the word as she turned around to stare incredulously at her wife. Callie hadn't brought that up at all. "She did say she had forgotten to take out the garbage and after that the back door slammed. That was earlier though, while I was in the bath."

That their daughter had kept this piece of information to herself did not surprise Stef. Earlier that evening, Callie had been extremely reluctant when she had made it clear they needed to discuss her leaving the house with Lena. Still, she wished she had waited until at least the morning to mention it; they were both so tired at this point. But now that she had, she couldn't avoid telling Lena the rest of the story. "Well…it was a little more than that, I'm afraid," Stef said, wincing.

"What do you mean it was more than that?"

"Callie decided to run away. She got as far as the park before I guess she changed her mind."

"She went to the park on her own? This evening?" Lena asked in disbelief.

"That's what it sounded like, unfortunately. I'll fill you in on everything tomorrow when I'm on break."

Lena frowned, concern etched into her features. She did not like the sound of that, and her gut told her that Stef glazing over this suggested there was more but that she didn't want to burden her with whatever it was right now. Though Lena was curious, she stopped herself from asking additional questions. Because she didn't think she had the stamina to process any more information on top of everything else that had taken place tonight.

"She was so angry with me, Lena."

"That was pure rage," Lena agreed, thankful for the switch in focus to what she was familiar with. "Gisella did warn us this might happen more as her attachment to us increases."

Stef groaned. "I don't think I could take another meltdown like that," she complained, curling her knees up so she could huddle up to Lena's back. It had been draining and wasn't something she would be forgetting, nor keen on repeating, anytime soon. "Don't get me wrong. I do want her to feel comfortable with us—I do—but that kind of fight was...whew."

Lena couldn't help but roll her eyes and laugh. Her poor, unshakeable, police officer wife had met her match in the form of their spirited thirteen-year-old.

Stef's brow creased with worry. "Is that terrible of me?" she whispered, guilty over the slight resentment she harboured over what was essentially a milestone for Callie.

"No. You're not wrong for feeling that way, honey," Lena reassured, understanding where her wife was coming from.

"You know what, though? This was the best thing to have ever happened. No, really," she insisted when her wife scoffed. "She said she wanted to _stay_ , Stef." Her voice was nearly breaking with emotion. It had been something she had begun to suspect but finally having Callie tell them in her own words had been the best gift they could have ever asked for.

"You learned this was your home, didn't you?" Lena murmured, stroking her daughter's cheek. Hugging the pillow, Callie looked at peace.

"That _you're_ home."

* * *

 **A/N** :

We made it! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on how this chapter went, as well as what lies ahead for the family.


	44. Coming Clean

Author Note:

Thanks everyone for your responses to the last chapter. I'm so looking forward to exploring the new dynamic between Callie and the Moms now that the misunderstanding is out in the open. Like many of you brought up, it won't be perfect—but with Callie's acceptance of her permanent family a significant shift in their relationship can begin to take place. I still envision ups and downs but without the opportunity for things to brew.

This chapter allows Jude a rare moment with Stef, inspired by some of your requests.

As always, props to my beta reader **theypreferthetermpeople** for her lovely work. Happy reading, ~b'shert

* * *

 **Chapter 42:** Coming Clean

"Alright, my loves, have a wonderful day! I'll be here for the last bell," Stef said as she pulled into the school parking lot. Once parked, she eyed each of her children in turn. "And for heaven's sake, listen to your teachers and _behave_ yourselves. I do not want to hear about any funny business while Mama is not at work," she commanded even though the warning was essentially futile. Whether Lena was in her office or not made no difference in her children's behaviour. Still, for good measure, she fixed her gaze on Jesus for a little longer than his siblings. "This message is for some of you more than others," she clarified, seeing Jude becoming uncomfortable by the exchange as he sat sandwiched between his older brothers in the backseat.

"Always, Mom!" Jesus said enthusiastically, causing her to raise a skeptical brow.

" _HA_! I'll believe it when I see it. You'd better behave or there will be trouble between you and me, young man," Stef warned. This was their little shpiel on the rare occasion she dropped them off at school and her son, despite being all-too-familiar with the consequences at home for acting up at school, enjoyed it greatly—as did the rest of the kids.

Jesus flashed her a mischievous grin, not minding his siblings laughing at him if it meant having their attention. "Yes ma'am!"

The cop sighed inwardly, reminded of his impulsivity. More and more, Lena was convinced that it was a sign of a larger problem that needed attention. She wasn't sure, though. Like Callie, he had a good heart and always meant well but would somehow get caught up in the moment, unable to explain himself. Often, his missteps were not any less serious than his sister's, yet he enjoyed the freedoms of being a normal kid with normal boundaries where the consequences were restricted to home and school. He could skip a class or get into a scuffle without the added scrutiny of a parole officer or being in the system—whereas for Callie, these were violations of her parole that could send her back to juvie for another stint. Normal, albeit not well-thought-out, kid decisions were criminalized and risked ruining Callie's life, while Jesús was simply grounded or lectured by his moms. Some days, after several trips to the Principal's office, it felt like this difference was the only thing working in his favour.

" _HOLD IT!"_ Stef bellowed above the sound of backpacks shuffling and bodies scooting across the seats. "I'm not done!

"Remember, Mama's not available today," she resumed once they'd quieted down.

"We _know_ ," Mariana groaned. It was only the third time that fact had brought it up this morning. "If there's an emergency and we need something, call your work. Not Mama because she's too busy with Callie. We can either use the office phone or B's phone. He's the only one that has one because he's your favourite," she added, unable to help herself.

Stef's mouth fell agape as she slowly turned her attention to the front passenger seat to a chorus of _ooohh's_ courtesy of her elder sons. Mariana had been bugging them for her own phone for months with no success. Dissatisfied with not getting her way, she'd made it a habit to remind them of her unhappiness every chance she got.

"Being the favourite does have its perks," Brandon boasted to Jesus, loud enough for their sister to hear before realizing that unfortunately, it meant his Mom had heard him, too.

"Boys. Enough," Stef said in exasperation, not taking her eyes off her daughter. She'd been hoping to get through the morning without having to deal with any sass from their children but this one evidently had other plans.

"First of all— _Mariana_ —Mama is never too busy for any of you," Stef began. Her younger daughter had her own insecurities and she knew how hard it had hit her when she had learned that, not only did she have to share her Moms with two new siblings, but would have to share her room, too. "I suggested that you call me first because she is taking care of Callie and will probably not be able to respond as quickly as you might like, and because I do not want you calling her multiple times." She paused, watching the skepticism fade from the girl's face.

 _"Secondly_. Those phones belong to Mama and I." Not wanting to cultivate attitudes of entitlement amongst her children, she frequently reminded them that these items were a privilege only offered to them because she and her wife worked for them. Other than begging to have them, the kids weren't truly responsible for their maintenance. Lena disagreed with the language, but it was what Stef was used to hearing from the way she'd been raised and she was less bothered by it. "Alsoyou know very well that we do not play favorites so I don't appreciate you bringing it up to try to work it to your advantage. B and Callie both have phones because they're thirteen, which is when we will _consider_ getting one for you. The more you bring this up, Mariana, the more likely you'll end up further away from your goal, so I suggest thinking twice before mentioning it again. Am I clear?" she warned as her daughter sighed loudly, pouting at the unfairness of it all.

" _Okay_ , Mom! I got it. Geez..." Mariana whined as she stared out the window. Unlike Jesus, she didn't like being told off in front of the others.

"Thank you. I know how much you'd hate to wait beyond that," Stef added. "And B. Do not goad your sister like that."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Yeah you'd better be," she griped. He knew how insecure Mariana could be and frankly, knew better. "Now go. Learn something!" she ordered. "I'll see you at three-thirty. Don't be late or you'll be taking the scenic route home." Another empty threat since she wouldn't really make them walk home.

When she glanced in the rearview, Jude was sitting forlorn in the centre seat. He had gotten as far as undoing his seatbelt but wasn't moving—and from the looks of it, wasn't planning to. Ever since he had learned Callie wouldn't be able to go to school today, he'd begged and begged to stay home.

 _"But. But what if I miss her?"_ he had demanded the last time she shut him down. His voice had been shrill as he approached tears, grating on her last nerve. It'd been his way of telling her he wanted—no, needed—her attentiveness and patience. But amidst the time pressure of getting four kids to school much earlier than usual so she could still get to work on time, she had hushed him and physically walked him out the door.

The woman sighed quietly to herself, regretting how she had handled things. "Bud, why don't I walk in with you?"

Nervous hands tightened around his backpack and worried eyes flicked up. "Okay," he whispered deflatedly, knowing it wasn't really a suggestion.

Grabbing her coffee, Stef went around to help him out. There was nearly an hour left before the first bell and, while she was okay leaving the older three at the parking lot, she was less comfortable doing the same with her eight-year-old. Especially since Callie would, more often than not, walk him to his class. Plus, she wanted to try and talk to him about what she and Lena had learned about his fight with his sister. As expected, their daughter had begged them not to but they didn't want him to think he'd gotten away with lying. Not to mention that it wasn't Callie's decision to make.

The timing was far from ideal and went against her and Lena's commitment to keep home and school delineated. It was hard enough on their kids to have their mother working there, not to mention all the times Stef would drop by to see Lena if their breaks lined up. However, her wife had been the one who encouraged her to broach this conversation with Jude as a way to bond with him, since it was rare for her to ever get one-on-one time with him at home. However, while she agreed with Lena, she was still nervous about the discussion to be had. Jude, who was a bit leery of her, was usually on his best behaviour when she was around. They weren't as close—not in the way he and Lena were. Some effort would be required to help Jude become more comfortable around her, but the last thing she wanted was to upset him before he started his day.

"Maybe we can go see the second breakfast options the cafeteria has to offer."

The boy smiled shyly. "The caf doesn't _have_ second breakfast," he said before catching her drift. " _Oh_! Okay!" Brightening at the idea, he slipped a clammy palm into her hand and they began to walk towards the building.

On the way there, Stef had cajoled him into coming up with as many breakfast options as he could imagine. His ideas became increasingly creative as he began to warm up to her. The most ridiculous was something called _pizza hash_ —skillet potatoes with mushrooms and little pieces of leftover pizza—which turned out not to be made up, but a Saturday morning creation of Donald's. She smiled fondly as he explained it had to be that day because if they had pizza, it was usually on Fridays, "Like we do in _our_ home."

Clearing her throat, she gave an awkward, choked laugh. "That's right, Jude." The transition had been so much easier for him compared to his sister.

In the lineup, he tugged her shirtsleeve, happily oblivious to some students who were staring because she was in gear. "Can I have bread with jam?"

"You may, but where is your protein?" she cued. He had had a full breakfast earlier that morning, but she was in favour of using the opportunity to teach him about balanced meals.

He scanned the options again. "Milk? And…eggs? Is there money for eggs?"

"You betcha there's money for eggs. Remember, we put money on your account at the beginning of each week," she reminded, nodding towards the lineup. She watched him long enough to ensure he placed his order with the cafeteria staff before leaving to find a quiet place for them to sit.

She and Lena had been actively implementing strategies to help Jude remember to purchase his lunch on days they didn't have one bagged: having the older kids remind him, walking with him, and loading his account. There had been a couple hiccups but on the whole, things were improving on that front.

"Is Callie okay?" Jude asked as soon as he sat down across from her.

Stef watched, impressed and in slight horror as he began to shovel the powdered eggs with gusto into his mouth. In spite of having eaten at home, his appetite appeared intact. He had been noticeably more hungry lately, and she and Lena figured he was working on a growth spurt that he desperately needed.

"Well, she has a bit of a head cold so is probably not feeling her best but she's okay. Mama's taking good care of her," she reassured. As Lena had predicted, Callie woke up in the early morning hours with icy feet and a fever. After a dose of Tylenol, they briefly considered if she might be well enough for school but decided against it when she woke up again, drenched in sweat and with a voice that was shot. The fever had subsided, but after all the recent stress, neither she nor Lena could justify sending her. "Why, do you think she might not be?" she questioned, catching the wary look on his face. "Haven't you or Callie had to stay home sick before?"

Jude thought about her question as he opened the tetrapak and chugged the milk. Callie must have had sick days when they lived with their Mom and Dad, but he had been too young to remember that far back. Once they got into foster care, they had learned quickly that the best thing to do even if they weren't feeling well was to try and go to school anyway. If he was feeling really bad, him and Callie would skip and hide out somewhere for the day. The park or an isolated playground or the woods. Wherever they wouldn't stick out. If they were brave enough and sure no adults were around, they'd go back to the house and Callie would search for medication. Sometimes she would steal it from a store. He had always assumed that she did the same when she was unwell, but without him.

"No, not really," he said after a while.

Stef's heart sagged as she realized exactly what he meant. He and his sister likely would've gotten sick often; children that age got sick like it was their job. Not keeping them home when they needed to be taken care of was beyond her, but she was aware that it happened. Some caregivers were particular about using their sick days on foster children, while at the same time not wanting them home alone for fear things would go _missing_. So it wasn't unusual for kids to be sent to school anyway. Afraid a teacher would notice and call home, they would often skip. That would be the most plausible explanation for why neither Callie nor Jude were used to being kept home when ill despite the large number of unexcused absences logged on old report cards.

"Okay, but Callie has stayed home with me while you've been at school. And not that long ago, right?" Stef pointed out as he nodded and she wondered if the reminder of her suspension would be enough to quell his anxiety. Of course, the issue wasn't just that Callie was home. It was that she was sick and he wasn't familiar with being looked after by people who wanted them to feel better. "So it isn't really different from those days. You might miss her and that's perfectly okay, but between classes and having fun with your friends, the day will be over before you know it."

"I guess so," Jude conceded, mulling over what his foster mom said. "Mama's really great at taking care of us." He grinned as Stef cocked an eyebrow at him before making a motion suggestive of a stake going through her heart. "You too! You're good at taking care of us, too!" he added quickly.

"Mmhm. Nice save." Picking up the plastic fork now that her son had moved onto the other items on his tray, Stef helped herself to the remaining few bites of egg. "You apologized to your sister, yes?" she asked casually, referring to the one she and Lena had expected of them for the way they had treated each other. She frowned at his noncommittal shrug, hoping it didn't mean it hadn't happened yet.

"Jude?" she prompted. This time, he nodded dutifully.

"How did it go?"

She watched him swallow and instantly regretted not facilitating the process in helping the siblings make amends with each other. She and Lena didn't hover over their children's apologies, trusting them to be independent and sincere. However, perhaps they needed to with Callie and Jude, who were still learning about what a typical sibling relationship was all about.

"It was okay," he said softly.

It couldn't have been further from the truth. As usual, Callie had immediately forgiven him and reassured him that things between them were alright. But once he brought up the ruined cassette, she had cried and stopped talking. Since then, she seemed sad and distant towards him, and he had learned how much he really relied on her.

Deliberating how to have this conversation in a way that didn't intimidate the sensitive boy, Stef finally decided to cut right to the chase. " _Jude_ ," she began, taking a deep breath. "May I ask what exactly you apologized for?"

At hearing her question, her son stared at her wide-eyed and scared—telling her that some digging was definitely warranted.

"Uhm. What you and Mama said…" he whispered as he looked down at his lap. Technically, he hadn't disobeyed—he'd done what he'd been asked to. But he was still hooped because to answer Stef's question, he would have to reconcile his actual apology with the specifics of what his foster moms had expected him to say sorry for. And that was going to be hard, because the two apologies did not match and he wasn't ready for Stef to know the whole story.

Jude's heart pounded in his ear as he tried to work out an answer. "For taking the tape player from Callie and…not respecting her decision and stuff." He flicked his gaze up intermittently to meet the woman's as he stammered out his words, sussing out if she suspected anything was off about his answer.

"Was there anything else you apologized for that you think I should know about?" Stef said patiently, anticipating Jude wouldn't be volunteering any more than that.

Having a nagging feeling he was about to get caught for not telling the truth because of the way she was questioning him, Jude's stomach did a flip. Suddenly, second breakfast was no longer appealing. "No…not really," he squeaked out, in case there was a small chance he was wrong.

Stef looked at him sadly as the inflection in his voice gave away the desperate attempt to avoid an adult's anger. A learned behaviour that came from lumping her in with past aggressors.

"Mm, you sure about that, Bud?" she pressed, eying him expectantly. It wasn't so much disappointment she felt as she was perplexed with him; her youngest son was normally very honest and transparent with them. A few moments went by before he glanced warily at her and shook his head. Jude was not in as much trouble as he believed, but obviously didn't know that. It was stopping him from being truthful with her and eventually, she felt she had little choice but to confront him. "No, you're not sure, or no, there wasn't anything else you apologized for? What about for lying to Mama and I about Callie pushing you?"

Despite her efforts to be gentle, Jude paled visibly. "I said sorry for that," he said in a pleading tone, owning up to it now that he'd been busted. He still worried about how she'd react but at least there weren't too many people around which would save him from embarrassment if she yelled. "I did," he insisted, afraid Stef wouldn't believe him. "But Callie's still mad."

"What makes you think she's still upset with you, sweetheart?" the cop asked, softening at his anxiety. She could understand why Callie wouldn't have been happy with him but it had been a couple days now and she had expected this to have blown over by now, given the girl's forgiving nature.

Sniffing back tears, Jude gave another awkward shrug. "I dunno. Things are kinda different." He was uncomfortable talking to his new mom, especially knowing Callie wouldn't want him talking about her behind her back. And he definitely couldn't bring himself to admit to breaking the tape. But it was starting to look as though he didn't have much of a choice. "She said okay but cried a lot, and then didn't want to talk anymore," he eventually offered. "She hates me now."

"Jude…baby… Callie doesn't hate you. Your sister couldn't hate anybody. But sometimes these things take time," she said sympathetically. "Sort of how I think you're probably still upset with her for some of the things she said that hurt your feelings. Even though she's apologized for them, right?" Stef asked, recruiting his agreement in the form of a small nod. "But we apologize to each other because it's the right thing to do; not because we expect forgiveness or want the other person to not be upset with us anymore. It's okay and normal to still be angry at your sister. That was some fight you two had," she empathized at seeing the mixed emotions play across his face.

Jude frowned. Stef was right. When Callie had told him to stay away from their Mom because he had his own now, that had hurt. Because even though he liked Stef and Lena and considered them his new mothers, it was because he didn't have a choice. If Mom was still around, he'd pick her over them in a heartbeat.

"It was the right thing to do to apologize to your sister for lying at her expense, when you were well aware that she would not tell us. I'm proud of you for that," Stef said, providing that positive reinforcement she knew he responded to.

Chewing his lip, Jude met her gaze reluctantly—the action making him look scared and vulnerable. "Am I in trouble?"

"You're not but we do need to talk." She and Lena had agreed on leniency with him because ultimately, his actions stemmed from a lack of trust in them. All they wanted was for him to know that lying wasn't a good idea. Judging by his discomfort, that lesson was being taken seriously.

"But...are you mad?" he asked, unsure by what she meant.

"Well, I wouldn't say _mad_ , but Mama and I aren't too happy about it, either. We're disappointed you continued to lie after we gave you many chances to come clean," Stef replied. "You know it's the expectation in this house to be honest with each other, and you were not honest about what had happened." She sighed, concerned as the boy's shoulders sagged further and he fell silent. "Is there a reason you lied about Callie shoving you?" she questioned. From the beginning, she had suspected the siblings were hiding the truth but had hoped they would confide in them with some persistence.

"Is it because you wanted to get back at her for not wanting to share her cassettes? Because I know how upsetting it must've been to learn she hadn't told you about them, then to find out you wouldn't be able to listen right away," she empathized, remembering how caught off guard he was at Dr. Wiseman's when Callie had brought them up for the first time around him. "But honey, it is not going to be like that forever. Callie has wanted them for so long, and had no idea she would get them back...she just needs a little time with them to herself and then I'm sure she'll let you have a turn. Mama and I will talk to her when that time comes but right now, we _need_ you to be patient about this even if you do not like it," she pled, hoping he would allow them to handle it.

Jude shook his head emphatically as the lump in his throat returned. "She's not going to...because she can't," he said, quickly wiping his eyes. "We're never gonna be able to hear Mom again!"

The statement was made with such bold assurance that Stef knew something was wrong before she could wrap her head around it. "What do you mean?" she asked, afraid of what he was alluding to.

"Because it's broken," Jude whispered. "'Cause of me." The tremor in his voice became more pronounced as he accepted what he'd done. Initially, he had rationalized that if he couldn't listen then Callie didn't deserve to, either. But since then, any vestiges of satisfaction he'd felt had vanished. With the tape wrecked, the option for him to hear his Mom—if there ever was going to be that opportunity—was gone. It wasn't equal, because Callie had gotten to experience it. Losing the tape hadn't taken that away from her but it left him in the same position. Now he regretted his actions with all his heart.

" _Oh_ , _no_ —Jude…Jude, you didn't," she gasped, in disbelief over what she had learned. At that moment, she grieved for both children for having lost their Mom a second time—and for the boy, whose impulsivity had led to permanent repercussions she knew he regretted deeply and would take back if possible.

"I didn't mean to. I was trying to take it out so Callie couldn't have it and it came apart," Jude said, trying to explain himself at hearing the disapproval in his Mom's voice.

"I know you didn't…but cassettes are delicate. You need to be extra careful with them," Stef said, not intending to scold the guilt-ridden boy as he ran the back of his hand across his runny nose. She stopped short of asking what had happened with the broken tape. Callie had made it a point not to tell her or Lena about it so as much as she didn't like it, she wouldn't go digging. No wonder her daughter had been so upset when they'd tried to find out her side of the story.

"Why did you lie?" she tried again, bringing his attention back to her original question. "Why?"

"I don't know," Jude denied. Stef clearly wanted an answer from him but he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell her about the plan.

"Mmm, try again, Bud. I think you do know." She paused. "Do you trust me?"

Jude sniffled a little before giving her a tentative nod.

"Then you can tell me," Stef coaxed. "Because there must have been a reason, yes?" He was close to spilling, but like Callie, he needed safety to do so.

She watched as the gears turned, considering what she was saying before his eventual reply came in the form of two quiet words. "Mama yelled."

Although confused by his answer, she smiled encouragingly. She and Lena had discussed the fighting with him after separating him and Callie and while they'd been firm about the behaviour being unacceptable, neither had yelled at him. But after the whole misunderstanding with Callie, she didn't want to jump to conclusions and shut him down before letting him talk.

The clarification came soon enough. "Before you got home, I rode my bike after Mama told me not to and she yelled at me."

"She did," Stef replied calmly. "And you and I had a talk about not riding without a helmet when I came home."

Jude nodded before carrying on in his disorganized way. "And Callie said that I shouldn't be giving her too much trouble," he said sadly, lowering his head as a few stray tears dripped down his cheeks. "Otherwise she might not love me as much as she does now."

"Oh… _Jude…honey…_ " Her voice caught as she realized that he, too, had his own fears that had gone unaddressed. It was a funny thing; both him and Callie believed they were undeserving of being wanted and cared for. But while Jude was confident he was already loved, Callie assumed she was empty handed. One was fighting to keep it; the other was fighting to have it.

"What do you think of what Callie said?" she asked curiously, needing him to arrive at his own conclusion. So far, he had only repeated what his sister had said.

Her son withdrew his top lip, the way he usually did when concentrating on his homework. "I think it's good to not bother Mama too much because she's busy...and if she got tired of me, it would make me sad because I like her. I love her and want her to love me back."

"I like having a Mama again," he reiterated softly as his gaze retreated further down.

"Her love is pretty special, isn't it?" Stef said, echoing his sentiment.

He nodded before continuing, his voice changing pitch in the way prepubescent boys' voices typically did. "But maybe...maybe we don't have to think that way with you and Lena."

Stef cleared her throat as she began to well up with emotion at the emerging confidence behind his words. "No. You don't have to think that way with Lena and me. I promise you can trust me on that," she repeated, winking at him.

"Okay," Jude replied, all signs of apprehension gone with her reassurance. He had always felt that Stef and Lena were okay.

He was easy in that he was young enough to not overthink; rather, he was content to simply accept an explanation as long as it sounded convincing. While Stef knew she would worry about him falling prey to poor influences once he hit his teenage years, for now, she appreciated this quality of him.

"Do we have an understanding—you and me?" Stef asked, pointing her index finger between them to emphasize her point. "No more lies, mister. I do not want a repeat of this because next time we will be having a different discussion."

Jude beamed at her, happy to be off the hook. "We have an understanding!"


	45. Those Tentative First Steps

**Author Note:** Lena spreads her wings as a parent. Previously, I mentioned that I'm not as comfortable writing her as a character, but more and more I'm finding her to be malleable in this story and I like it. Thanks to my beta, **theypreferthetermpeople** , as well as to **AllyCallie** for planting new ideas in my head.

New readers: welcome, and I hope you enjoy. ~b'shert

Addendum: It seems like depending on what browser you're using, the text formatting gets wiped but I'm at a loss about how to fix it. Sorry guys.

* * *

 **Chapter 43:** Those Tentative First Steps

After sleeping in an extra hour, Callie's fever broke and her appetite made an appearance. Determined to maximize their time together, Lena brewed a pot of tea for herself and sat down with Callie while she had her breakfast. Once plates were cleared away, she brought out the iron and laid the protective pad down on the table.

She had spoken with Stef before Callie woke up, getting updated on the events from the night before as well as how things with Jude had gone, knowing he'd been upset when they left the house that morning. After discussing the damaged book, they had decided not to immediately pay for a replacement to avoid making the problem simply disappear. They would if necessary, but for now, they felt that involving Callie in the process of putting it back together would be a memorable natural consequence. That the task would be tedious would double as the perfect exercise in patience, which they hoped would encourage Callie to think of more appropriate ways to calm herself in the future.

That was how Lena ended up wrestling with the scotch tape while supervising Callie—who was nervously handling a hot iron—to make sure the paper wouldn't burn. They had decided Callie would be responsible for straightening the crumpled pages. But now she was questioning who this was more tiresome for since she was the one doing most of the work.

"Hand me that next page. No, sweetheart. Pay attention. Do not just grab the closest one," she instructed when she realized she had been given p.121 when they needed p.117. She was trying to be patient, knowing Callie wasn't feeling her best and her attention span was limited. "Look, honey…I know this isn't very exciting and it would be easier to pay for another copy, but it's the right thing to do," she reminded, regretting the way she had spoken when she noticed the remorseful expression on her daughter's face.

"Sorry about my book…" Callie mumbled, still feeling ashamed from when Lena had confronted her with the tattered novel—something she hadn't expected would happen. It was hard to describe, but she felt slightly exposed learning that Stef and Lena knew what she'd done. Like she had disappointed them in another way.

"I know you are, honey, but there's no need to apologize anymore. We can only try to make things right," Lena encouraged. Taping the last of the ironed pages back into place, she closed the novel and set it aside before reaching over to switch off the iron.

"What was going on that got your book in this state?" Lena questioned. She knew that her daughter was uncomfortable, but she was curious about Callie's reasoning (or lack thereof).

Her wife had given her some useful insight into the events of last night but hadn't been able to tell her everything she wanted to know. All she had been able to infer was that Callie had left home because of the broken lamp; however, it told her nothing about why she had taken her anger out on her things in the first place.

The girl shrugged reflexively as she thought of the godawful worksheet. "I got mad." She paused to think through her answer, knowing Lena expected more. "I—I read something and got thinking about some stuff...and, things kinda got out of hand," she admitted, blowing out a breath as she remembered how ripping out the first page had lead to another.

"Something in _Bridge to Terabithia_ , you mean?"

"Yeah."

Lena hummed thoughtfully. That story was tough for anyone who had experienced loss. "And your lamp? How did that happen?"

"I threw my book and accidentally knocked it over," Callie admitted guiltily. "I was looking in the garage for glue so I could fix it but there wasn't anything and…" She trailed off at the visceral memory of her mounting panic as she searched the metal drawers, which offered every single adhesive except for the one she needed.

"You thought it'd be easier if you ran away?"

Callie's gaze flitted upward at the bluntness of the question. "Mama, I—it wasn't like that. I swear I didn't plan it," she defended. Nothing had been easy about leaving and she had only done it because it seemed like her best option. "I thought, maybe you and Mom were gonna be done with letting me live here."

Her voice pitched with apprehension as she tried to articulate her thinking. Though she now knew it was something that'd never happen, revisiting old fears still got her choked up. "Because, I've been messing up, over and over again. And I thought, maybe, you guys were getting tired of it and wouldn't want to put up with me anymore."

"Callie girl...we will never get tired of you," Lena soothed. The insecurity was so entrenched that it would be a while before those worries faded into the shadows; even then, she didn't expect them to ever completely disappear. "Believe me, sweetheart. Between B and the twins, we've seen it all. There has been plenty of messing up over the years and Mom and I still tolerate them. And that goes for you, too. In fact, we can't imagine life without any of you," she said, smiling at the slow grin creeping across Callie's face.

"Yeah, it was stupid."

"No, not if that's what you're used to," Lena acknowledged. "All of a sudden, we're asking you to put your trust in us when you've only known us for a short while." It had barely been four months since Callie and Jude came along, but it was getting easier and easier to forget that little detail. "On top of that, things here are very different from the other places you and Jude have lived," she empathized. "It's going to take some getting used to."

Callie thought about what her foster mom was saying. This morning, as she'd drifted in and out of sleep, she had vowed to do better for Stef and Lena. To try and hear them out and _believe_ what they would tell her without second-guessing all the time. That had only proven to be exhausting and had caused her weeks of heartache.

As the girl fell silent, Lena did some reflection of her own on her insecurities as a mother. Yesterday's events—which she interpreted as Callie feeling safer running away than coming to her—had only exacerbated them. In many ways, her relationship with Callie didn't come as easy as the one Stef had with her although it was evident that her daughter liked and trusted her. They spent time together and on several occasions, she had been the only one who had been able to calm her down. And judging by the way Callie had reacted when she felt Stef had disrespected her during the argument she had overheard, their daughter was clearly protective of her. However, there was something about their dynamic that lent itself to her having very limited authority over Callie, who simply didn't seem to respond to her as well as she did to Stef, when she responded at all. Their daughter pushed boundaries with both of them but would usually cave only to Stef's discipline.

To be honest, Lena harboured some resentment towards her wife for what she perceived as a significant difference in the level of deference Callie had for each of them. This whole time she had been diligently working on establishing a parenting relationship based on warmth and consistency to nurture and cultivate respect. As with their other children, she and Stef were equally responsive to Callie's needs, stressed open communication, had high expectations of her, and kept consistent consequences. However, her wife was a little more authoritarian in her parenting style. She was stricter, emphasizing obedience, and was quick to discipline which often led to tears. And forget _cultivating_ respect—Stef commanded and expected it, period. If she needed to use the fear of punishment as a means to enforce good behaviour, she would do so without hesitation. At the end of the day, Lena realized Callie would need to learn to obey authority due to her legal troubles but she was still uncomfortable with her wife's tough love approach. Then again, it was Stef who could get her to turn things around.

It felt as though she and Stef were two halves of one parent to Callie. One that was barely keeping things together—rather than two whole parents that Callie needed.

"Why didn't you say something when I asked if you were okay?" In hindsight, she realized that the noise she had heard while in the tub had been the lamp falling, not a binder as Callie had told her.

Her daughter stared at her, bewildered. "You said you needed a bath when you got home and you only do that when you're stressed. I didn't want to bother you," she said truthfully.

"You wouldn't have bothered me," Lena replied, unsure if she should be relieved that was all it had been, rather than a sign of Callie feeling like she couldn't count on her.

Callie and Jude were so different from their other three, who never hesitated to approach them for anything. She and Stef complained about the lack of privacy that came with the endless questions directed at them through the bathroom door and interruptions to intimate moments, but admittedly, it was nice to be needed—to know their children saw their support as unwavering and always available. It hadn't always been that way, however. The twins had been extremely shy and nervous when they first came along, but while Jesus had quickly warmed up to them, Mariana had remained mute for quite some time. It had felt like an eternity before her trust developed enough that she would converse with them out of her own volition and approach them for help, but compared to Callie, her progress had been much faster given her younger age then. Their newest additions were heading in the right direction but still had a ways to go until they were comfortable doing the same without worrying about troubling them. That was the hope, anyway.

"You know, honey…I didn't have the best relationship with my mother growing up. It was hard for me to talk to her and that's not something Mom and I envision for our family. We want all of you to be able to come to us with the expectation that we'll always do our best to help you, no matter what it's about," Lena said. "I feel terrible—I really do—that you thought I was too preoccupied for you. That running away from home was a better choice than to come find me."

Callie sat there awkwardly as she listened. Going to find Lena hadn't even entered the realm of possibility. "Sorry," she said, shoulders sagging. "It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to you. I just didn't think about it, really Lena. I didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything."

"It's okay, sweetheart. You didn't make me feel bad," Lena clarified, regretting how she had phrased things. "You are not responsible for how I feel."

Satisfied that the woman was being honest, Callie nodded. "How come you didn't want to talk to your Mom?" she asked cautiously, feeling brave enough to let her thoughts wander out loud.

"That's a great question," Lena said, smiling fondly at her daughter. Only eight when Colleen had died, Callie wouldn't have been at the age when she would begin to seek independence from her parents. "It felt like I couldn't live up to her expectations and I worried constantly about letting her down with my decisions…or if I made a mistake. So I hid a lot of things from her, including who I was, and put my efforts towards being perfect. That wasn't good for me or our relationship," she explained, omitting the part about how critical her mother had been of her. As much as she wanted to be transparent, she also didn't want to influence the connection she hoped Callie would eventually have with her grandma. "We have a great relationship now, though. Almost like we needed to drift apart so we could become closer."

"That's silly. No one's _perfect_ ," Callie blurted out, causing Lena to laugh softly at the conclusion. Given all of her daughter's anxiety over her own mistakes, this was the last thing Lena expected to hear from her.

"That's right, and we shouldn't try to be. Mistakes are really opportunities for growth," she said, picking up the dog-eared book and waving it at her as Callie rolled her eyes. She surveyed their handiwork before handing it over. "There. Good as new… _almost_." She would let Timothy know about the damage tomorrow and pay for a replacement if needed.

Her daughter brightened, noticing that it didn't look so bad now. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome, Callie girl. But here's the thing…" she began as she folded up the ironing pad.

"Yeah, Mama?" Callie said, discouraged by the awareness that this was the start of a lecture.

"You cannot go destroying things like this when you are angry, honey. Mom and I really want to see you find other ways to cope when you get upset." While Callie's short fuse had always been a concern, something about seeing the shredded novel—pieces of which Stef had collected and brought to the office—had magnified her worries. Some pages had been ripped out in entire sections, tearing the adhesive binding out with it. The damage was extensive and there was no mistaking that it had been done in a fit of rage.

"Callie," she said firmly. She preferred her children didn't ignore her when being addressed.

"I **_know_** ," her daughter replied.

Taken aback by the distinct edge to Callie's whine that spoke to her impatience with this new topic, Lena felt her exasperation rise. "If you _know_ , then you need to _show_ us," she said, mimicking the emphasis Callie had placed on her words.

Callie looked down, ashamed. She didn't need that reminder; she did already know, but showing it was a whole other ballgame. Like the haphazard decision to leave the house the night before, she hadn't started her homework with the intention to wreck anything. It'd just happened. And honestly it frustrated her that Lena was talking about it like she'd gone and decided to do it on purpose, because she hadn't. "O- _kayyy_ ** _yah_** ," she repeated, once again unable to avoid over enunciating to portray her annoyance.

Not having missed the storm clouds brewing, Lena frowned. She was surprised by the sudden shift in Callie's willingness to communicate and whatever patience she initially had for Callie because she was sick had quickly been expended. In deliberating between scolding the girl or pushing through with her lecture, she weighed each option against the risk of an argument. Settling on neither in favour of trying to understand, she leaned across the counter and propped herself up on forearms so she could speak quietly to Callie. "What's happening right now?" After genuine apologies, this was not the response she had been expecting that showed her daughter intended to make some changes in her life. "I'm trying to be fair and have a conversation with you about making better decisions but you are not being very respectful or showing that you're listening to me."

Callie considered making a witty comeback but stopped herself. "Nothing..." she mumbled. "I said _okay_ ," she said, eventually acquiescing at Lena's firmness, though it wasn't without whining.

Wishing she knew where the sudden attitude was coming from, Lena sighed, accepting this was probably as good as it would get. For now, she would let it go.

"Two deep breaths and one step back, remember?" She narrowed her gaze as Callie slid down in her seat.

"Callie."

"I'm **_listening_**!" Callie snapped, impatient both at her foster mom's irritation and reminder. She just wanted Lena to let it go. She did remember but hadn't thought of that at the time. If she had, she wouldn't have gotten into this mess. _Obviously_.

Lena could only shake her head. Despite Callie's insistence that she was listening, her obstinance told a different story. Her daughter was so caught up in being upset with her for bringing this up that she wasn't hearing her—not interested in showing any intention of following through—rendering her attempts to get through to Callie ineffective. She needed a shift from defensiveness to acceptance to take place for that to happen.

"Are you?" she asked, pausing to let that sink in. She couldn't help her amusement when Callie gave her a sheepish look, part of the fight dissipating but stubbornness still in the way of an honest answer.

"By the way, taking a step back does not mean taking off," Lena continued although she questioned the value of lecturing further. "I didn't even know you were gone, honey. Had you gotten into a situation in which you needed help, we wouldn't have known where to even begin looking for you. That behaviour needs to stop. Running away doesn't solve anything."

She paused, waiting for a nod of acknowledgement before going on. She would have her daughter's full attention very soon. "Mom and I have decided that the three of us will be spending a lot more time together until we are confident this won't happen again," she said as her daughter eyed her curiously, knowing something was up. "That means you must be with one of us at all times when we're out. Same as before, but this time there will be no exceptions."

It was scary not knowing where your children were, period. Callie had been on restriction ever since getting suspended from school and disappearing at Dr. Wiseman's office, but over the last week, she and Stef had been gradually loosening the reins to give her her space back and to show she was earning back their trust. It was why Stef had allowed a solo visit to the coffee joint the day she took Callie out for errands. Unfortunately, they weren't comfortable doing that now.

As Callie's face sank, Lena prepared herself to hear what wasn't acceptable about the consequence. It was definitely a bit of a setback for Callie, who according to her wife, had been thrilled at being allowed to go off on her own to the cafe. But this had nothing to do with getting lost in the parking lot that day and everything to do with having left the house without their knowledge.

"But Ma—" Callie started to protest. She faltered when Lena held up a finger to stop her and she realized, to her dismay, that that wasn't the end of her consequence.

"And when you're home, one of us needs to be on the same floor. This includes the garage and the backyard. If you need some time out there, ask first. The answer will always be yes but we need to know when you plan to be out there."

Lena really felt for her daughter as a look of incredulousness crossed her features. This was going to test Callie's level of maturity and understanding, and she could already tell by the reaction that it would be a learning curve. But it was a lesson she and Stef both felt needed to be learned, badly. Callie needed to learn that running away wasn't ever a solution, and to trust that regardless of what she did, they wouldn't give her away.

"Mama… _no_. That's not fair," Callie argued, although without her usual spiritedness. True, she'd gone behind their backs and broken a rule but she couldn't help but be angry that she was being punished for telling the truth. Had she kept her mouth shut, Stef and Lena would've never known. "It's not fair," she repeated as the ache of disappointment rose in her chest. This was worse than being grounded, and the fact that she'd been so close to having her freedom back made the failure hurt so much more.

"I'm so sorry, Cal. I know it feels that way," Lena empathized. "But that's what Mom and I are comfortable with right now."

As hard as it was, she stopped herself from defending their decision beyond that. She could see how much difficulty Callie was having with it—how confused she was—because the real issue was that Callie didn't believe she deserved consequences for something she had been upfront about. But that wasn't how trust and accountability worked. Callie needed to learn to stop fighting them on everything and get used to accepting that as her parents, they called the shots because they had her best interests at heart.

"I didn't _have_ to tell you about it," Callie snapped, a hint of bitterness to her words. "You guys wouldn't have ever _known_!"

Lena winced. "You're right, you didn't have to tell us. Had you not, we wouldn't have found out right away. But I think it would have come out eventually," she corrected. "So you might not agree now, but you absolutely did the right thing by telling us and we're so proud of you for that," she praised, hoping that would be enough to prevent the discussion from devolving into an argument.

"I was almost done..." Callie said dejectedly, referring to her initial grounding. Now she had to start all over again.

"You were," Lena agreed. "But it's not going to be so bad. Oh, honey, it's going to be okay," she consoled as her daughter burst into tears. "It is going to be just fine."

Her sympathy was mixed with slight amusement. In the grand scheme of things, this wasn't a huge deal—but for Callie, who wasn't used to someone else calling the shots, it was. The crying subsided almost as soon as it had begun—reassuring her that while her daughter was unhappy with the consequence and trying to get out of it, she was alright.

"I guess, I kinda like spending time with you guys," Callie admitted once she had calmed down. Lena wouldn't change her mind, that much she knew.

"Is that so? Careful or we will think of something else," Lena said as the girl cracked a smile, eyes still wet from making initial grievances known.

"No! No, this is fine," Callie back-pedalled, immediately becoming serious.

This time, Lena coughed to stop herself from laughing—both relieved and thankful that a bit of humour had managed to turn the situation around so quickly. "One more thing. It's okay, this is more of a suggestion," she said, seeing Callie give her a worried look. "Eavesdropping or not, the next time you hear something that doesn't sit well with you, I want you to think about coming to Mom or I with it. No more keeping things to yourself," she said, perturbed by the thought that Callie had felt unwanted for so long. "I just wish you'd let us in, honey."

The girl's complete honesty when she replied was endearing.

"But, Mama? Sometimes…sometimes, it's hard to ask for what you don't know you need," she said in a small voice, sniffling as she wiped her face.

"That's very perceptive, honey. You're right, it is hard," Lena echoed, impressed by Callie's self-reflection. "All we ask is that you try to take that first step of telling us when something doesn't sit right with you. We will talk about it and can help you with the rest. You're not alone in figuring out what you might need," she reassured. "Because you're not. You're not alone."

* * *

"How is that settling for you?" Lena asked as she cleared away the half-eaten bowl of veggie soup from the coffee table. The diminished appetite was concerning; Callie usually finished whatever was offered so she probably wasn't feeling her best if she was picking at her food. But apart from that and a slight fever, Callie was mostly herself. Her voice had even bounced back after hydrating, putting to rest initial worries that this was the flu, or worse, strep throat. It was a far cry from the time Jude had hid that he was sick from them, only to have been sent home within a hour of arriving at school when he threw up all over himself.

"Good. Thanks, Mama," the girl replied distractedly, craning forward to keep her eyes trained on the TV. Her screen time had pretty much been non-existent over the last couple weeks so she was surprised when Lena suggested a movie marathon. If being ill granted an exemption of sorts, she needed to soak it all in before she got better.

Perching on the coffee table so she could face her daughter, Lena put the disposable plastic shield on the digital ear thermometer. She juggled the device in one hand while expertly clamping a hand over her daughter's forehead. Callie fidgeted under the contact, causing a read error that had her start over. "Stay still, please. Almost done," she murmured, glad that the skin felt cool to the touch as she waited for the temperature to register.

 _100.8°_. Low grade, but still a bit of fever.

Hoping Callie might be more willing to engage, she paused the movie. Something had crossed her mind that she thought could explain why the situation yesterday—which her wife had affectionately dubbed _The Great Toast Incident of 2013—_ had escalated the way it had. Something that could have potentially added a whole other layer to Callie's fears.

" _Wait_ ," Lena sighed as the girl immediately grabbed the remote from her. She felt guilty enough for allowing so much screen time today that she could do without the instant withdrawal signs. "I want to talk to you for a second." She removed the remote from Callie's hand to redirect and was relieved when she gave it up willingly.

Callie gave her the side-eye. " _Why_?" she demanded suspiciously. _They had talked all morning_!

"Excuse me?" Lena asked, raising an eyebrow at the abrupt question. " _Manners_ ," she reminded, before letting out another sigh. Knowing she needed to respond to her daughter's wariness, she moved beside her on the couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I've been meaning to check in with you about the other night. I heard you had a pretty bad dream."

"Yeah, but, I'm okay," Callie said dismissively, embarrassed by the reminder. In the days following, her memory of the nightmare had slowly returned. Some parts remained patchy, but she was able to recall most of it now. Just not what had lead up to her standing in front of the open front door.

"Mom mentioned you were telling her about what it was like at one of the homes you and Jude lived in. That you had dreamt about something that happened there," she said, being transparent about what she knew.

Wanting to avoid triggering Callie, she asked for permission before delving any further into the topic. "Can you tell me about it?" She held breath as her daughter bit her lip, thinking of her response. After last night, though, she was less worried about if Callie would talk. She sensed that something had shifted with her daughter, who was starting to grasp that openness would, more often than not, be helpful.

Out of instinct, Callie balked but surprised herself by agreeing after a quiet moment had passed. "Yeah. When we were with this lady for like a month."

"Val?"

"Mhm. Jude was in kindergarten and we were at the same school so we walked together everyday." She laughed bitterly, remembering the backdrop to what had gotten them ousted from that home. "Mom really liked walnuts. Like, really, _really_ liked them. She always had to buy them whole because they were cheap that way," she shared. "She'd get Jude and me to wedge one in the door and she'd close it slowly so they'd crack open."

Lena frowned, not understanding where this was going. "That sounds fun…" she said as Callie smiled, genuinely appearing at peace at being able to revel in the memory.

"One day on the way home, the corner store had them on the stand outside." Feeling a chill go down her spine at the prospect of having to repeat what had happened, Callie sank into Lena's side and curled her legs to her body. She marvelled at how echoey the woman's breaths sounded with her ear pressed against her shirt.

It was a while before she was brave enough to continue, but when she did, she considered how lucky she was that she wouldn't have to do it alone because she finally had people she could rely on.

The whole thing had been stupid. "Jude didn't even like walnuts but he wouldn't let up asking for them. I...I thought that maybe he missed her so I took a few. He'd been kinda sad about her so I thought we could do the same thing to cheer him up." She held her breath, hoping Lena wouldn't react badly. After all, she had stolen.

"So she was upset with you for stealing?" Lena questioned. She was incredulous; not that she condoned stealing in any form but this seemed like a very innocent mistake.

Callie shook her head. "No. For after," she whispered, chewing a hangnail on her ring finger to distract herself from her nerves. Somehow, it always felt like it'd come back to life if it was repeated. Maybe it was a fear of reprisal—that somehow, it'd get back to Val and she would get hurt again. Or a worry that Stef and Lena wouldn't believe her, or worse, tell her it was her fault.

Feeling her daughter tense beside her, Lena readjusted the blanket so that she could tuck it over and around Callie's shoulders. Her way of reassuring that it would be okay. Eventually, Callie spoke up again on her own.

"When we got back it was just us. We did it the way Mom used to, but then the wood under the hinge splintered. Val came home and…noticed the door wasn't closing properly and we had to line up so she could find out who did it. And I didn't want someone else to get trouble for it…and Jude had just gotten in trouble that morning for wetting the bed so I said it was me. That I broke the door."

Lena winced, noticing the blood pooling on the girl's finger where the skin had split. Carefully, she brought Callie's hand away from her face and wrapped a Kleenex around the digit, making a mental note that she would need to check her nails later.

"I guess, I didn't think it'd be so bad since it was an accident. But she said she was gonna punish me, anyway. I had to go to another room." Callie sniffed, bringing her other hand out from underneath the blanket to wipe at her nose which had started to run. She really wanted to avoid crying in front of Lena.

"Everyone heard, Mama." The feelings were every bit as raw now as they'd been then, and her chest tightened at the past humiliation. She remembered debating what was worse—getting beaten or the awareness that the rest of the house could hear it play out in real-time. "It hurt and I had to pee and couldn't go."

Val had made her stay there and she hadn't had the courage to use the adjoining bathroom so she'd held her bladder until school the next morning. It had burned when she was finally able to relieve herself. She remembered having to sleep on her side and how much it ached to sit up or sneeze—even walk—for days after. How she would straighten and watch herself whenever a teacher was nearby so they wouldn't notice her walking different to avoid making more problems for herself.

"I've had worse though," she quickly added, afraid that she'd made Lena uncomfortable. Not wanting her to worry, she forced a smile.

At hearing confirmation that the punishment had been physical, Lena drew in a measured breath, trying to match Callie's efforts to maintain composure. While she had already known how the story would end from what Stef had told her about Callie's behaviour during the night terror, it wasn't any easier to stomach. That protective instinct of her daughter's, which she had gotten a glimpse yesterday, had returned and was getting to her. Initially, she had assumed that the eerie calmness in Callie's voice was her way of making the encounter less of a reality by stripping her emotions from it. But now she was convinced that Callie was hiding how upset she was in order to be brave for _her_ sake.

"She was super pissed about the door and was yelling into the phone after...like for a long time. I guess she was saying to Bill she couldn't have us anymore. We moved a few weeks later," Callie said in the same removed tone. She was crying softly now, noticeable only because she would intermittently bring a hand up to wipe her eyes. Apart from that, she stared straight ahead, willing the movie to play again.

Lena shook her head as she brought her daughter in closer. _All this for a childish lapse in judgment._ "I am so sorry that happened to you, Callie. Mom has probably already said this but I'm going to say it again. None of that was okay and I want you to know that something like that would never happen in our home. You know that, right?"

She had never been as relieved as she was when Callie indicated agreement with a subtle nod. While somewhat distracted, the girl seemed sure.

Determined to keep their dialogue going, she resumed the movie but turned the volume down several notches. Callie obviously wanted the distraction and she would oblige. "It's okay, you can watch," she said when met with a look of surprise. "Quietly so we can still hear each other when we're talking," she said, making that clear from the outset.

"I'm going to ask you something that might make you uncomfortable but I want you to think about it while remembering I'm right here," she said gently after a few minutes of the movie had played. "And that you can call a timeout if you don't want to talk anymore."

If something awful had happened to Callie when the door had broken, it made sense that she would have been afraid of a similar scenario replaying with Stef. And the broken items had likely triggered old fears when she was already on edge from the night terror.

A perfect storm.

But while she knew this, she wasn't sure Callie did.

"Okay," her daughter replied, most of her attention captured by Pixar. Slightly distracted but present enough.

"Do you think what happened in that home made you afraid of Mom?" According to her wife, Callie had reacted fearfully towards her right away when she found her in the kitchen, long before they'd come upstairs. That concerned the both of them.

Callie shook her head. There were times she'd been scared of the cop but it'd been a long time since she thought she would actually be harmed.

"Are you sure? Did you maybe think she would hit you because of the broken lamp?"

"No…" Callie said, drawing the word out as she considered what she was being asked. That worry had entered her mind for a split second, but it had been easy to remember that that didn't happen with Stef or Lena. They didn't beat anyone. But while she had been confident she wouldn't be hit, she definitely remembered being hit. "I was kinda scared," she admitted. "Not 'cause of that, though."

"It's completely normal to be afraid," Lena replied. The ambiguous answer had left her confused, however, about what her daughter had been afraid of.

In no way wanting Callie to feel guilt or shame over her feelings, she reached across the blanket and held her hand. "That was a scary thing to have happened to you, and it made me sad and scared to hear that you went through that," she validated.

Callie swallowed as her vision blurred. She had never talked to anyone else about the incident with Rigid Coleridge and she was relieved that Lena believed her and didn't blame her.

Trying to be intentional with her words, Lena paused. There had to be a reason for Callie's fear; she had clearly admitted to being afraid and Lena wanted to help her put a face to it. "Did Mom do anything that made you frightened? Was it her work clothes?" she suggested, remembering that Callie was wary of the police. Stef had gotten in later than usual yesterday and as a result, had stayed in her uniform until her shower. Perhaps that was why their daughter had had such a strong reaction towards her at the height of her meltdown.

" _No_."

Lena smiled at the stubborn annoyance that failed to convince her of its sincerity. She raised a knowing eyebrow at the girl, who quailed under her expression. " _Sweetheart_ ," she sighed.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Callie pulled the blanket up to the bridge of her nose before stealing a second glance at her foster mom. Obviously, Lena wasn't going to let this go, which sucked because all she wanted to do was to watch _Ratatouille_. It was rare to get a movie all to yourself and she wanted to savour every moment, not miss things because Lena wanted to talk about feelings. "She doesn't look like herself in that thing," she muttered. Feeling her cheeks burn, she gave a small shrug.

"Okay. Was there anything else?" Lena asked. She would be talking to Stef about that again.

Safely hidden behind the warm throw, Callie tried to sort out her words. These questions were making her uncomfortable. The truth was she'd panicked last night because she had thought of Coleridge; not only of what had happened but what _might_ happen if she got transferred to another placement. Because up until their huge fight yesterday, she had still believed that Stef no longer wanted her to stay with them. But, embarrassed by the way she had acted, she didn't want to revisit the topic and shook her head emphatically. "Dunno. I just…I remembered...stuff." Shuddering, she snuggled up closer to the woman, wishing Lena wouldn't pry anymore. "But I reminded myself I was here and not there."

"That's right, honey. You are not there," Lena said, resting her chin atop the mophead of hair to show her daughter she had her undivided attention. Without meaning to, Callie had validated her theory of a visceral reaction being triggered when old wounds reopened.

The girl nodded, happy to be reminded of that fact. "I don't want to talk anymore."

Lena opened her mouth before remembering her promise that a timeout could be called at any time. To go back on that would not be helpful in nurturing Callie's willingness to be open with them, which was—although looking hopeful— still in early days.

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it anymore," she relented, "but maybe we could try again later with Mom.

"Can we try again later?" she repeated when Callie didn't respond.

"Mm. Later."


	46. Laying Worry Dragons to Rest

**Author Note:**

Hi all, my apologies for the longer wait for this update. A loved one passed away earlier this month, and grief is a funny thing when you have life and death within a very short timeframe of each other. Anyways...onward we go.

Just wanted to make a clarification in the last update in case there was some confusion with Callie getting sick. Yes, her fever returned even though it broke in the morning. I do not know what, if anything, will come of that story arc. Thanks to those of you who brought it to my attention.

Thank you to **allycallie** for suggesting that Callie draw some parallels between Lena and her Mom taking care of her while sick. And to **theypreferthetermpeople** to make sure you're getting a good quality product!

* * *

 **Chapter 44:** Laying Worry Dragons to Rest

Stef paused at the threshold of the master bedroom, taking in the scene between her wife and daughter with fondness. Callie was stationed at the foot of their bed, engulfed in an oversized terry bathrobe as Lena worked a wide-toothed comb through the tangles in her hair. Judging by the modest amount of straight hair parted to one side compared to the side that was uncombed, there was still a ways to go, which was unfortunate because the expression on Callie's face indicated that her patience was thin.

Despite it only being late afternoon, Lena had managed to coax their daughter into showering earlier. Her concerns over Callie had steadily increased along with a fever that had slowly crept up after lunch, and she hoped that bringing down her temperature would abate the sluggishness she was observing. A post-shower check was also in order and Lena had assumed things would be smoother without four other bodies angling for hot water. In practice, however, garnering Callie's cooperation was harder. Not thrilled about leaving the comforts of being wrapped up in a blanket with a movie playing, Callie dragged her feet in getting to the bathroom. Given that she wasn't feeling her best, this wasn't entirely surprising; it was hard enough to get her through the routine under normal circumstances. The shower seemed to do nothing for Callie's mood and she complained relentlessly—even becoming tearful at one point—when it was time for Lena to help her finish up the steps.

"Hey, lovebug! Look at you, all showered and fresh!" the cop declared brightly, hopeful that some positive reinforcement might help lift Callie's spirits. Her well meaning comment was met with a scowl, corroborating Lena's account of how their afternoon had gone downhill.

" _Hi_ , honey. What are you doing home early?" Lena asked.

Stef smiled, not missing the relief behind Lena's words. "Desk duty this afternoon. Roberts said to bring it home." The Captain had given her the go-ahead to leave earlier ever since learning that Callie was home sick today. She just hadn't mentioned anything in case something came up and she couldn't leave as planned.

 _"Adams-Foster! You are having way too much fun in here. What is so funny?" Stef had been in the staff kitchen when her personal cell pinged a text alert. Hastily wiping her hands and setting aside the freshly-washed mug, she snorted with laughter at the photo and her wife's accompanying caption._

 ** _'Presenting…Miss Sourpuss…'_**

 _"This," she said, angling the screen towards her boss to share the snapshot of Callie on the couch, legs hiked up onto the cushion as she hugged a hot water bottle against her body. It was past ten o'clock, but she was still in her pyjama pants which had apparently shrunk because the cuffs were at capri length. She was wearing a deep frown—complete with downturned mouth—from her movie being interrupted by Lena. "It's a terrible, terrible thing to be taken care of," she joked._

 _Unable to focus on the photo while Stef was holding the device, Roberts cradled it in her hands and zoomed in. "Oh my goodness…what a sweet thing," she gushed before laughing at Lena's message below. "Callie appears so different already," she remarked. "Comfortable. She must be settling in." She was shocked by the change that had taken place in just a few months time. The girl looked much healthier than she remembered from having met her twice in person—once at the store when she'd run into the newly-expanded family and another when Callie had accompanied Stef into the precinct to grab forgotten keys. Yet, it felt as though she had a relationship with her. She knew her story and about the difficulties that Stef and Lena had been facing both legally and in parenting. Stef had worked in her division for decades and she had been there for her when the twins had been brought in and for the stressful period that followed, rife with struggles that came with integrating them into their family._

 _"Oh, yes," Stef affirmed, grinning. She was tired as hell today but yesterday's late night had been worth it; now she was finally able to say that with confidence. "She's certainly learning the way things are done in our home, that's for sure."_

 _"That's wonderful." The captain paused, not wanting to detract from the happy moment but also remembering an earlier conversation she'd meant to follow up on. "Have you and Lena heard back from Juvenile Justice?"_

 _The grin quickly left Stef's face as she swallowed her nerves. She had gone to Roberts for advice on Callie's situation when things had began to spiral out of control, desperate for a more definitive answer as to whether the department would actually pursue anything and to what extent. "Not yet. It's supposed to be soon, though. Probably within the week," she said, mentally working out the timeline since Bill had sent them the letter._

 _Roberts smiled kindly at Stef. While it'd been quite some time since she had had a thirteen-year-old in her charge, as a mom she was all too familiar with the worries inherent in raising children. Despite knowing about some of the trouble Callie had been getting into, she was rooting for her and for the integrity of the family._

 _"Yeah, I know. I'm just not prepared to get her hopes up. Or mine," Stef admitted. Since it was the first time Callie had breached her conditions, she was hopeful that Juvenile Justice would grant leniency._

 _The captain nodded in understanding and Stef felt grateful to have an ally in her. She had worked for Roberts ever since she had started with the SDPD and could not have asked for a better boss, who had, over the years, become somewhat of a second mother to her._

 _"So what is Callie doing at home today? School isn't closed for a Staff Development day is it?"_

 _"No. She's down with a cold and has a bit of a fever. Nothing serious. I think she probably would've been fine at school but…we had a bit of a rough go last night and we figured a day home was best."_

 _"Oh no. Again? I'm sorry to hear that, Stef."_

 _"It's okay. Thanks, Captain."_

 _"Why don't you head home at afternoon coffee break? You should be home with them—they need you," Roberts suggested. She ran her team with a family-focused perspective in mind and tried to avoid having her officers abandon their families in times of need if she could help it. "We're two above baseline today," she said, referring to the extra officers on dayshift. "It would be no problem. Bring your work with you if it makes you feel better, but no pressure. Just mark it on the flow sheet when you go and I'll see you next week."_

 _Stef opened her mouth to argue before stopping herself. After what Callie had told them yesterday about her fears, she wanted to be extra diligent to show her that she had her support._

She leaned in to peck her wife on the cheek before giving Callie the same affectionate gesture, who inched away from her with disgust. "I _know_ ," she said, exaggerating her sympathy. "I, too, am very sad that I won't have a scent trail to pick up on should you run away again," she teased lovingly.

" _Le—_ ** _na_**!" the girl whined, whipping her head around to see if her foster mom had heard—and if so, what she planned on doing about it. Her face contorted in pain as her hair inadvertently yanked the comb from her foster mother's grip in the process.

" ** _Ow_** _!_ " Callie growled angrily. Ripping the object from the tangled mat, she balanced it on her fingertips before flicking it hard towards the floor, following its trajectory as bounced once, then hit the bottom drawer of the dresser with a satisfying _snap._

"Ooohhh, sweetheart," Lena said as she herself winced; the tug on her hair had probably hurt. She was unimpressed by her daughter throwing the comb, but was more than happy to let it go and coddle her for now. So instead, she rubbed the area on Callie's scalp where the hair had been pulled. However, it only appeared to annoy her further and her daughter drew away from her attempts to soothe her. This day was going from bad to worse, quickly.

Not missing the hurt that flashed across her wife's face when Callie had addressed her by name, Stef gave her a look of sympathy. It was difficult for Lena, as it was for her, every time their daughter stopped calling them a derivation of _mom_ that suggested she was beginning to see them as her mothers. They weren't planning on making a big deal out of it. The ebb and flow was only natural, and usually came with distraction rather than any intent. But it didn't mean that it didn't hurt a little whenever it happened.

Exasperated by her wife's unhelpful remarks, Lena hit Stef on the arm to illustrate her displeasure. Already spent from her tedious battle with Callie over washing her neck and feet, the last thing she had expected was for Stef to come along and encourage things to unravel any further than they already had.

"Seriously, Stef? Go!" she ordered, pointing to the walk-in. Now that she knew Callie was unsettled by the police uniform, she was going to be better about reminding Stef to change as soon as she got home.

"Honey, I was just joking. You don't smell," Stef said apologetically to Callie before deciding it'd be best to stop while ahead. Glancing at Lena, she mouthed ' _sorry'_ in her direction before disappearing into the closet in search of comfier clothes. It was still a couple hours before she would need to be up at the school to collect their other four.

Callie scratched the spot on her scalp—which was now a dull ache—only to become more irritated when that made it hurt more. "You never ask me if I want to comb my hair," she complained, her voice climbing an octave. It annoyed her to no end that it always took so long and that Stef and Lena cared so much about making it perfect when it really didn't matter to her. "Hair's dead, and the only person obsessed with keeping it perfect is _you._ And I don't want you to do that anymore!"

Lena shot her wife a scathing glare as Stef poked her head out of the closet to give her a quizzical look. While she was more than happy to have another set of hands on deck at home earlier, she had also been navigating the landmines successfully before Stef had come along. Not only did Callie seem to be the ultimate grouch when sick, but the disrupted sleep and emotional toll of the week was clearly starting to catch up to her because Callie had never become this upset over them needing to help her with her self-care. She would often stall and protest and hide, but this was the first time they'd seen her close to tears because of it.

"Don't scratch, honey—don't scratch," she said, taking Callie's hand away. "Oh, baby…this is nothing to get so upset about. You are right, I'm sorry I didn't ask if I could help you when that's the first thing I should have done," she said, hoping that the concession would take some of the edge off the child's angry mood. "Your hair is absolutely perfect the way it is but it is so thick that it needs some attention to keep it healthy." She eyed the girl as she spoke, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel as her frown began to soften. "Otherwise…you might end up with dreadlocks."

"Well maybe that's what I _want_ ," Callie mumbled. _Who was Lena to tell her what she did or didn't want?_

Lena quickly searched for soothing words to turn things around so she could finish what needed to be done. "That would be neat," she placated, although the idea of letting Callie's hair mat even further—and on purpose—mortified her more than anything. "But even dreads need care and we should practice if that is something you might be interested in," she reasoned gently, running her fingers through a section of curls.

"What if I just used my fingers to get the worst snarls out?" Lena negotiated. "Like this?" She let nimble fingers demonstrate their intention as they worked through the largest mat at the nape of Callie's neck.

Callie frowned, not knowing how to dispute Lena when she was being so damn nice about it. Plus, she wouldn't ever admit it, but it didn't seem so bad and was actually kinda relaxing.

Lena breathed a sigh of relief when, after a pause, she felt her daughter's shoulders relax and Callie leaned back into her a little. She had won this battle—for now.

"Uhm. Okay. Just those ones," the girl relented. "Yeah. Like that."

Overhearing the exchange between her wife and child as she got changed, Stef smiled to herself. While Callie was less inclined to behave for Lena, it was Lena—not her—who had a way with her sometimes that meant she was able to redirect a crisis before it happened.

If she and Lena were two components of an exterior door, Mama was the storm door—the one who dissuaded misbehaviour from happening with praise and approval as key motivators, which all their children wanted. Mom was the door behind, reinforcing the rules with consequences to remind them they were not to go there. But while the positive reinforcement was enough to motivate Mariana, Brandon, and Jude to abide by the rules at home and at school, the approach was less effective for Jesus and Callie. Things were more chaotic with them. While Stef had no doubt those two wanted the same things as their siblings, their impulsivity and temper always steamrolled Lena's efforts—almost demanding a response that matched the level of intensity in their crisis. They wanted to obey _for_ Mama, but their primary motivator was obedience for the sake of avoiding consequences and Mom's wrath. She and Lena had thought there'd been a shift with Callie wanting to follow their rules but after the revelations last night, it'd been apparent that it was because she was afraid her behaviour made her unwanted. Her main goal wasn't obedience, but the fear of rejection. needless to say, parenting in their household wasn't even close to being equal.

She was grateful that by the time she'd finished changing that Callie appeared to be in better spirits, making her feel braver about approaching her again. Ever since her conversation with Jude, the cop was itching to know how her day at home had went. Sure, the siblings weren't used to being taken care of when sick but she hoped that with time, they would come to expect that they would be. As they _should_ be.

"How are you feeling, love?" she asked, sitting down beside her on the bed. Callie was allowing Lena to put a thick braid in her hair—one of her signature tricks to keep hair tidy without having to comb it everyday.

"Better."

"That's what I like to hear, my sweet girl." Doubting the credibility of that statement, she placed the back of her hand on the girl's forehead. "Whoa— _Cal_...I just wanted to see how warm you were!" she defended when Callie dodged her reach and scrunched her face. She could only imagine what her daughter had been like for Lena. "How about the official temp reader, then?" she suggested as she spotted the ear thermometer atop the dresser, before realizing her mistake of asking when Callie looked at her as if that idea was criminal.

"What, my love? What is so ludicrous about wanting to know what your temp is to see how well Mama took care of you, hm?" she coaxed. She was puzzled when Lena gave her a pained smile but before she could ask, Callie piped up.

"Mama didn't use _that_ ," the girl stated, her pronunciation telling her she was referring to Colleen rather than Lena. "She had the little paper that she put on my head."

"Oh?" Stef said, feigning understanding as she searched her wife's face for explanation. "Ah, yes, of course, the forehead papers," she said sarcastically as Lena suppressed a laugh. She honestly didn't know what Callie was talking about.

"Callie and I thought if you had a free moment you might be able to do a stop at Ralph's," Lena replied. She felt guilty for suggesting that Stef go out of her way but there had been a low point earlier in which Callie had refused to let her use the Braun Thermoscan. Eventually, she'd gotten her talking about how her mother had cared for her when she had to stay home from school. Callie had cheered up some in the ensuing discussion, happy to compare the similarities and differences in the way Lena was going about things to her Mom's approach. As for Lena, she was determined to incorporate some of what Colleen had done for the children, knowing it would make Callie more amenable to being taken care of. In addition to freshly hard boiled eggs with their yolks replaced by cheese slices and Kool Aid, the skin surface thermometers had been a concession. They weren't as accurate but they were less invasive and if they were tolerable to Callie, so be it.

"The fever strips. I already called and they have them in stock," she said, her way of telling Stef she had been desperate.

"Right. The ones that don't always work so well," Stef quipped. "I can pick some up on the way to get your sibs," she said, hopeful that would make things a little easier.

"Tell me. How was staying home with Mama?" she asked, changing the subject entirely. "It wasn't so bad now, was it? Not too boring?" Callie had put up a fuss when they had told her she couldn't go to school, but this was the same kid with the equivalent of weeks of unexplained absences so they knew better than to assume it was because she liked school. It was that she was uncomfortable being home.

Her daughter shook her head. "It was fun. I did homework after breakfast and then I had to go lie down for a while. But after we had a movie marathon," she shared, brightening.

"Movie _marathon_?" Stef said incredulously. "And you give me a hard time over screen time," she muttered as Callie giggled at her disapproving tone towards her wife. She could only imagine how thrilled their daughter must've been and wasn't really upset though.

"So missy, what was on the roster?"

"Ratatouille. Super 8…and The Lovely Bones."

" _Very_ nicely _done_ ," she said, winking at Callie before turning to her wife. "You let her watch The Lovely Bones?" she asked through a fake smile. While she wasn't one for censorship, the content—a brutal rape and murder of a young teen by a serial pedophile—was harrowing and she'd been left unsettled when she watched it with Lena.

"Mhm. Callie's pick that we watched together," Lena assured her. She, too, had been taken aback by the choice, but Callie had already read the novel and seemed genuinely curious about the movie when she had seen the DVD. "Did you like the book better or the movie?" she said, turning to her budding film critic.

"Mm, the movie, but the Harvey guy they casted was really creepy."

"I thought so too," Lena agreed. "It means he's a good actor." Knowing that not all of Stef's concerns had been allayed by knowing Callie had already read the novel, she quickly changed the subject. "How about you tell Mom what else we got up to?"

"Mama helped me fix my book," Callie said shyly.

"I heard. That was very kind of her," the cop replied. "You said thank you?"

"She did," Lena said as she secured the hair elastic around the braid.

"Good girl."

"There. All done, honey." Wrapping her arms around her daughter, she pulled her in for a hug from behind. "I think it's time to bring Mom up to speed on some of the things we talked about today," she said, encouraging Callie to continue where they'd left off. She had given Stef a heads up about their conversation in general, but having Callie engage with them was better. That way, they could address any residual fears together.

"No, thank you," Callie replied politely. She knew what Lena wanted to bring up and she was so over it. If this was so important to her, then she could do it.

A wave of guilt washed over Stef as she noticed her daughter tense up. _Was she really that scary?_ she thought, recalling the text exchange between herself and Lena in the afternoon. It'd been interrupted several times throughout the course of the day but she gathered that Callie had been afraid of her yesterday; however, it'd been hard to glean the full message of what exactly she'd done to precipitate those fears.

Deciding to begin by apologizing, the woman reached out to grasp Callie's hands in her own. "My love, I'm so very sorry that I scared you yesterday—if I did something, or if I remind you of people who were hurtful towards you and Jude, or didn't treat you nicely. That's the last thing I want to do," she said softly. It killed that her daughter didn't feel fully safe in her own home and that she'd been the reason behind it.

Callie retracted herself from Lena slightly so that she could twist around to direct her comments at her. "I _wasn't_ scared of _Mom_!" she snapped, close to frustrated tears. She was mortified at what Lena had obviously told Stef. Her foster moms really did share everything.

Sensing distress was brewing under the surface, Lena sighed in resignation. Judging by the way her daughter had closed up when she had tried to talk to her, Callie was self-conscious about whatever it was. But as much as she wanted to give space, something told her that whatever it was that was buried there couldn't be left alone to fester. She just didn't know how much to push Callie.

In the end, it was their daughter who surprised the both of them by steering the conversation which had initially been left unfinished.

"I was kinda scared but it wasn't because of you," Callie mumbled grudgingly, turning back towards Stef. She blew out a breath at her foster mom's obvious confusion, resentful that they were making her talk about her muddled feelings. But past experience told her that neither Stef nor Lena would let it go so the best thing to do was to just get it over with. "You don't remind me of Val or anyone like her," she said. "You just…reminded me of them." That was different.

"Okay. I don't remind you of them…but I kind of do, too?" Stef repeated slowly, genuinely confused as she tried to make sense of what Callie was getting at.

Looking down at her hands, Callie shook her head. She had no idea how to put words to what had been going through her mind yesterday when she had panicked. "Not really…no."

Lena squeezed her daughter gently in her arms, proud of her effort to communicate with them despite her nervousness. That was new. "Do you mean that Mom doesn't remind you of people who mistreated you, but she did something that made you think about them?" she tried, crossing her fingers that that was it because she didn't have any ideas apart from that.

Rephrasing the initial attempt helped, and Callie snapped around to stare at her with a mix of gratitude and astonishment on her face. "Yeah… _yeah_." She drew in another deep breath and blew it out, harder this time. "M—mom was…she was, um, gettingherbeltoff," she said quickly, sure she'd die from embarrassment for telling them. "Then I remembered them and got really freaked out."

"You reminded yourself you were here and not there," Lena said as Callie nodded. Those had been her child's words, not her's, from earlier in the day.

Stef felt her chest constrict at the nonchalant tone, as if Callie was trying to make what she'd admitted to come across as no big deal. The problem was, it was. It was huge that she had triggered memories of a painful, traumatic time in Callie's life.

"Take my belt off? Wha— _when_ , baby girl? When did I do that?" Stef asked hoarsely as she retraced her steps from the night before. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment Callie was referring to.

Callie glanced at her foster mom before her gaze drifted down. "You were sweeping," she mumbled. "And then you said I had to get on Mariana's bed and I—I didn't think you were gonna hit me, Mom! I didn't," she insisted, noticing Stef tear up. "I just remembered stuff." Shuddering, the girl leaned back into Lena, allowing her to envelop her into her arms. It felt like nothing could get her here. "Val used to talk like that—say words like that, I mean."

Stef drew in measured breath as she struggled to keep her composure intact. She understood exactly which moment Callie was referring to. She had definitely loosened the accessory around her waist while cleaning underneath the bed and it had evidently become larger in Callie's head than it was. "I'm sorry. I didn't know, Cal."

"I know," Callie replied, feeling awkward. "Sorry you had to clean my room."

"It's okay. You don't need to apologize for that. All is forgiven," Stef emphasized, getting even more emotional with the language Callie used that indicated ownership of the space she shared with Mariana. As well as the gratitude over her help restoring her room to a habitable condition—as if the idea of a clean room as a basic living condition was a privilege and a new concept. Clearing her throat, she gently rubbed Callie's upper arm. "Look at me, love. Look at me," she said, waiting for eye contact before continuing. "You know I wasn't going to hit you, yes?"

Callie gave a firm nod. That wasn't the way things were done around here, and not once had she doubted Stef in spite of the intrusive thoughts.

"Do you know why I was loosening my belt?" she questioned, exchanging a concerned look with her wife. She was honestly afraid of how Callie would answer. If there wasn't a reason, she would always wonder if her daughter had suspected the worst—being beaten—and wasn't being honest to spare her from feeling bad. But she had to ask; after yesterday's events, neither she nor Lena were keen on cultivating any more misunderstandings between them. Not if it could be helped, anyway.

"Callie?" she repeated, trying to draw an answer from her.

The girl bit her lip and nodded. "I thought maybe you were not comfy, 'cause you had to bend down real far to get the stuff under my bed. So maybe you had to get your belt off to, umm, make room so it wouldn't, um, digintoyoursnackpocket," she said, proud of herself for having put that together. "Because it was uncomfortable?" she ventured to add, glancing at the cop to see if she'd gotten it right. Her Mom had taught her to never talk about people's appearances but Stef was asking and she was pretty sure that was what had happened. It was the only thing she could think of that made sense after the initial waves of panic had passed.

Mortified at what she was hearing, Stef's eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she stared at her wife in horror. Behind their daughter, Lena was coughing to stifle a laugh.

"Cal…wha—what do you mean, _snack pocket_?" the cop said with disbelief although she was sure she didn't need anymore clarification.

Callie glanced at her cautiously. "You know, the paunch you get on your stomach after you have a baby. You get some extra skin hanging around and it gets in the way when you're doing up your button or crouching down. That's what my Mom used to call hers," she explained patiently. Her words picked up in pace as the horrified look on her foster mom's face told her she needed to do damage control and fast. "Don't worry! Yours is smaller because you just had Brandon but my Mom, she had—"

Barely able to hide her amusement by now, Stef held up a hand. " _Thank—you_ , Callie. It's not—necessary...to explain...further." Not sure she could keep it together any longer, she brought both palms up to her face and shook her head from behind them.

Hearing Lena snort with laughter behind her, the girl spun around. "Mama, what?" she asked, confused by the amused expression on the woman's face. "What's wrong with _Mom?_ " she added when she saw the cop hiding behind her hands and her shoulders were shaking.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. I'm just not sure Mom was prepared to hear about her snack pocket," Lena managed to say before she let go of all efforts to maintain a straight face and she burst into laughter.

Stef emerged briefly to give the girl a piece of her mind. "I do not have a snack pocket," she pointed out indignantly as Callie gave her an apologetic wince. Her daughter was going to give her a complex, that much was certain.

"Oh, that is it. That—is— _it_. You are going to pay for that, my sassy girl." When Callie least suspected it, she grabbed her by the shins and dragged her clear off Lena's lap.

" _Ahhh_! **_MAMA_ _help_**!" Callie squealed, trying to grapple her way back towards Lena for safety.

"Now you leave your Mama out of this! Mama can't save you!" Stef scolded.

Lena guffawed; Callie had body shamed her wife with no clue as to what she had done. That it'd been done with such sincerity and patience was hilarious. "Mom is right, Cal. You got yourself in this mess—I am staying out of it," she said, barely able to choke out her words through her laughs.

"I—do—not—have—a—snack—pocket!" Stef declared, tickling her daughter in the ribs to punctuate each word.

"It's not very big!" Callie insisted through her own giggles. She had managed to flip onto her stomach so she could clamour back to her foster mom—the one who wasn't annoyed—but Stef was not letting up at all, making it hard for her to escape.

Stef stopped in shock. "What did you say?" she asked, mustering as deadly a voice as she could. Her child was fearless.

Callie froze. "I said it's not—"

"I heard you! I heard you, missy! And that is not the right answer! I repeat, that—is— _not_ —the—right— _answer—Callie!"_ Stef replied, emphasizing her message by launching an attack under the girl's armpits.

"An _appropriately_ sized snack pocket," Lena added unhelpfully as she continued to laugh.

At this point, the women were both wheezing through belly-aching laughter and had tears pouring down their faces. Eventually, when Stef was confident enough she could speak without bursting into either a fit of laughter or tears, she helped Callie get up and patted her leg. "Come sit."

"You are a riot, Callie, you know that?" she said, dabbing at her eyes as Callie settled into her lap, bucket style.

"Sweetness...I want you to listen to me, this is important," Stef said when they had all calmed down. "I was loosening my belt, yes, because it was digging into me. I had just had dinner before, remember? I was bloated from Mama's cooking and needed to make a little more room, that's all," she defended, though she had to admit now she was a bit self-conscious.

She sighed loudly in mock exasperation at her child and raised her eyebrows. "What role my snack pocket played in this is unclear," she added, eliciting another round of squeals as she resumed poking her daughter in the side.

Once Callie had calmed down again, Stef squeezed her tightly in her arms. "You're right—I wasn't going to hit you. I wasn't getting it out. I do remember telling you to stay on Mari's bed and now I wish I'd taken more time to explain," Stef admitted, "but in the moment it didn't feel like there was time to. I was focused on the glass on the floor and keeping you from getting hurt. I can see how that would've triggered you and I am so sorry for that," she said, wanting to make sure there was no room for confusion.

"I knew you weren't. You and Mama aren't like that," Callie said confidently. She reached up with both hands to hold onto Stef's arms which fell straight down in front of her shoulders, forearms crossed like a t-bar at chest height. It reminded her of getting on a rollercoaster—the moment she would shake the harness a little after it engaged to test her safety.

And she was safe now.

"You're sure? You never thought it was a possibility at any time?" Lena asked.

"Mm, maybe for a second, but it was easy to remember you wouldn't," Callie said. Once she had thought it through, Stef's behaviour had made sense.

Her honesty was enough to reassure Stef and Lena that she trusted in her security with them. Rather than automatically doubting them, Callie was trying to accept what they were telling her. Sure, Stef had complained that yesterday's tantrum was draining—it was—but now she saw it from Lena's perspective. Callie misunderstanding her permanent place in their family and the ensuing blow up had been a good thing. Necessary, even, for change to happen.

"Do you remember what we talked about the other night—not last night but the one before?" Stef prompted, referring to the aftermath of her daughter's nightmare.

Callie surprised her. "No one gets into trouble for accidents in our house."

Stef gave her wife a tearful smile; neither had expected the answer to have come so easily to Callie. They'd been prepared to repeat the message because both times she'd spoken to her about this, it had either been in the midst of a sleepwalking delirium or a tantrum and she felt that Callie's listening skills had been compromised.

"Exactly. I meant that, Bug. I know this wasn't the case in some of your other placements, and Mama and I need you to know that that was very, very wrong. That kind of _abuse_ …" she emphasized before choking up at the damage that had been done. Damage that she and Lena would always be fighting against knowing it wouldn't ever be able to be fully erased. "It was _unacceptable_ , Callie. It should have never happened," she said firmly.

Callie drew a blank stare. She knew that they'd been abused in the other places they'd lived at—she wasn't dense. She'd heard Bill talking about it on occasion when he thought she wasn't listening, and read about it in hospital charts when adults weren't looking. This was the first time, however, that an adult had labelled it as abuse in her presence. It was weird, but also… _freeing_. It wasn't hushed like it was something to be ashamed of.

Heart sagging, Stef drew in a measured breath before she continued. It was sooner than she and Lena planned on having this conversation with their daughter but now seemed like an appropriate time as any.

" _If_ you were to get a spanking again—and that's an **_if_** …it would be a spanking, Callie, not a beating. Those are different. It would be over something we've either discussed many times before or something incredibly serious, and we would talk about it lots," she explained. "It would never involve an object or shaming you in any way—like removing your clothing." The moment when Callie had gripped the waistband on her pyjamas while trapped in her night terror was indelibly etched in her mind.

"Like the time you decided it was a good idea to unlock Mom's safe," Lena added, wanting to provide a specific example. While she had her reservations about this sort of consequence, she _was_ confident that Callie would not be attempting that again. Not just because of how Stef had punished her for it, but because of how remorseful their daughter had been when she saw the safe had to be replaced and what Lena interpreted as disappointment in herself. "Not because you let your emotions get the best of you and destroyed your things."

"We'll talk more about this later," Stef said. She was trying to avoid having the conversation get derailed by getting into a topic that she and Lena still hadn't decided on how to navigate yet. But she didn't think there was any harm in repeating this in case there was any inkling of doubt on Callie's part. Plus, it seemed like a natural point in time to reassure her. "But for now, does that sound fair to you?"

Callie nodded slowly; she was slightly confused at why Stef and Lena were repeating themselves. She thought she had made it clear that she hadn't thought Stef would hurt her. Not in the way she and Jude had been before. Their intention to want them to be good people, like her Mom had, was pretty clear to her.

"Okay. One more thing," Stef said. "You said Val used to say things like that. Did anyone else?"

Callie paused before nodding again. "Jeanine," she admitted in a soft voice as the concern in Lena's features became more pronounced. "She didn't let us eat sometimes and I—I got really hurt in her house."

"I know…I know she hurt you, Bug," Stef said, encouraging use of more direct language. Remembering what Bill had told her about the injuries Callie had sustained, she wished for anything to be able to erase that trauma for her.

Her anger surged as a sudden thought entered her mind. "Wait. Is _that_ what that woman—Val—told you? That if you broke anything else she would use a belt next time?" she demanded, her voice shaking with fury as she realized she already knew the answer. "She threatened you?"

It made sense. That awful nightmare in which Callie had been so fixated on the door being broken. Grabbing her waistband. The frantic insistence during her sleepwalking that she'd _learned her lesson_ and _wouldn't do that again_ because she _didn't want that._ What she had told Lena today about the door and hinting that Val had been physical with her.

Her heart shattered when the girl made fleeting eye contact with her before looking away without reply. "Answer me," Stef urged. Things would be easier for Callie if she got her to acknowledge her abuse. They could move forward and rebuild.

"I can't tell you," Callie blurted out reflexively. She was annoyed her foster mom was asking her.

"Yes you can. Answer the question. Did she tell you not to tell anyone?"

Eyeing a second hangnail to chew on, Callie let out a sigh. _Cop mom was back._ She averted her gaze, trying to figure out what she could say without anyone getting mad at her, but was becoming distracted by Stef's new theme song she'd made up to the tune of Batman.

 _Nana nana nana nana…COP MOM!_

" **Callie**! Did you not get enough to eat today? Because you are out to lunch," Stef scolded mildly.

She knew she was being pushy in the way she was questioning but believed Callie trusted them enough to talk to them. She'd been showing that to them all day with her willingness to communicate so she wasn't afraid to push her.

Lena must have been thinking the same because she scooted up as close as she could to them, her knees nearly meeting Callie's as their girl sat bucket style in her wife's lap, lanky legs spilling onto the bed. "Look at me, honey. Yes or no, did Val punish you for breaking her door by hitting you?"

 _A nod_. "Yes."

"Yes or no, did she leave marks when she did that?"

 _Another nod._

This time, it was Stef's turn. "Yes or no, did she use an object?"

Callie let her gaze wander away before Lena's fingers guided her chin back up.

"Mom asked you a question."

"Objects."

"Yes or no, did she threaten you with a belt the next time you broke something in her home?" Stef asked. She was shaking with so much anger by this point that even her voice wasn't spared.

"Yeah," Callie eventually admitted, her words a mere whisper. "Next time."

"That is _it_. I am calling Bill first thing tomorrow" she huffed angrily, directing the statement at Lena without forethought as to how Callie would react. That her child had been threatened enraged her more than ever; she wanted this woman to pay for the way she had treated her.

Callie was immediately all up in arms and tearful at what she perceived as straight up betrayal. "What? **No**! I _don't_ want you to _tell_ him!"

For a moment, she had forgotten that Stef and Lena were still technically her foster parents, and consequently it'd slipped her mind that they were obliged to report any abuse disclosed to them. She resented that she'd gone out on a limb to tell them this stuff and it couldn't just stay private because legally, she wasn't part of their family yet. Plus, she'd been elated when Bill moved them from that house—she didn't want Stef to go opening that phase of their life up again. Had she been paying attention and remembered that foster parents were mandatory reporters, she wouldn't have said anything at all.

 _Why'd she always have to go do her cop thing?_ "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she added irritably, despite knowing it was too late.

Eyes widening at the abruptness with which her wife had stated her intentions, Lena went straight to damage control.

"Sweetheart, it's going to be okay, I promise. Hush—let me finish," she soothed when Callie turned to her for support and began to argue her case. "But this is not something Mom and I are going to be able to keep from Bill, you know that, right? I'm so sorry, but we really can't," she apologized, hoping that was all that would be needed to diffuse the reaction. "It's so important because if we don't say anything, then DSS doesn't have any information to stop abusive homes from operating," she explained.

"Honey…is there a reason you don't want Bill to know?" Stef asked, curious as to why Callie was getting so worked up over this. She knew from her colleagues who worked in Child Protection that it was common for children to not want to disclose mistreatment, usually out of fear of reprisal. She suspected the same was going on with her daughter; however, she wanted her to know that wouldn't happen. Not on her watch.

Callie looked up reluctantly. "What if she finds out?"

"Listen to me, love. Listen to me. Nothing can happen to you or Jude. When children move on from homes, there's no information on where they go next. She can't come find you, even if she thinks you said something," Stef reassured. She refused to lie and say that Val wouldn't find out, because technically it could happen. Any investigations with the Department of Social Services would protect the identity of complainants as much as possible, though of course Val could figure it out from the types of questions asked about Callie and Jude's placement, but the children were safe with her and Lena and she wasn't worried.

"Do you remember what school you and Jude went to when you lived there?" she asked, trying to figure out the neighbourhood the kids were in.

"Baker. In Mountain View."

"So that's very far from here, isn't it?" she asked, and Callie gave her a small smile. She knew she'd won a vote of confidence. "Was there something else?" she pressed, seeing the girl's expression flit back to uneasiness.

"But, what if me and Jude have to go back to her?"

Lena's heart sank at the reminder that the preoccupation with being sent back was still living in the background. "What do you mean, Callie? You wouldn't have to go back to her—you and Jude are being adopted," she reminded. "Adoption is forever."

Callie shook her head. She believed them based on last night. "No, I know. I meant, like…what if you guys die?"

Not having expected that, the women froze. Callie's fear made sense, given that she had lost her mother before. But it was the last thing they thought they might have to deal with. Luckily, they had each had age appropriate versions of this talk with all their children at one point or another, so they weren't completely at a loss about how to respond. This was a delicate topic, though, especially for Callie who was much older than their other kids when they'd asked this question and had actually had the experience of her mother dying.

"Well, Mama and I will die one day. Hopefully it's not something we need to worry about for a very, very long time, though," Stef began. "We're doing our best to take care of our bodies and that helps us stick around for longer. That's why Mama has me on a healthy diet and we exercise and see the doctor regularly."

Callie breathed in hard as she wiped away the tears that were clouding her eyes. Stef and Lena couldn't control everything; people died. Her mom had been perfectly young and healthy and was gone just like that. "But you can't know everything that'll happen, though," she pointed out. "What if a bad person kills you when you're at work? What if you go somewhere together without us and get into a car accident, or your plane crashes? That happens, you know."

" _Callie_ …" Lena murmured sympathetically as she tucked in the loose strands of hair behind her daughter's ear. It wasn't difficult to see how heavily this was weighing on her. "It's true, accidents can happen, but the likelihood of both of us dying at the same time is small. You are right about that. A lot of things are out of our control, as much as that might make us uncomfortable. You can't think like that, though. It will drive you crazy."

She hesitated as she wracked her brain over the reading material Gisella had given them on complicated grief in children. But Stef, who had figured out that Callie's issue was her fear of returning to foster care and that she needed reassurance, had already beaten her to it.

"Is this something you think about often? Us dying?" Stef asked. Of course, now that Callie's fears of not getting adopted had been put to rest, her mind was working in overdrive to find the next possible way she wouldn't get to stay with them. "And where you and Jude would go if we died?"

Callie nodded. The fear had only come up after yesterday's conversation, when she realized that she saw Stef and Lena as her parents long before they'd confirmed it for her. Now that she was sure she had a family, she was afraid to lose them. "It just doesn't work out for us," she said, the statement was simple and resigned. "We don't get happy endings, me and Jude."

"Oh, baby…I'd like to think that the chance is small but even so, it makes me scared to think about it, too," Stef said, tightening her arms around the girl. "But what helps when I get worried about stuff like this is to go over our family's plan for what happens if Mama and I die."

"Like a will?"

"That's right, a will. Adoptions aren't reversible so you and Jude are included. Grams and Grandpa—my parents—would gain custody of you and your four siblings so all of you would stay together. In fact, they would move here so you could stay at the same school," Lena began to explain. "If something happened to them, then Grandma Sharon would take care of you. And she would also move here," she continued, trying to keep it as straightforward as she could.

"But...they're _old_ ," Callie replied.

"Geez, Cal, they are not _old_ ," Stef chuckled, mimicking the girl's incredulous tone. However, she understood that her daughter was alluding to a fear that they would die as well. "Honey please don't tell them that, especially not Grandma. She would be very sad. _But_ in the unlikely event something happened to all of them, then you kids would go live with Aunt Jenna and Aunt Kelly. No matter what, you and your siblings would be together."

Catching Callie's wary expression, Lena added, "You haven't met them yet but you will soon. They live in town and we think you and Jude would like them very much once you got to know them."

They'd been trying to plan the Adoption Day celebration and Jenna and Kelly were on the invite list but with Callie unwilling to participate they hadn't been able to talk to her about it. But they couldn't wait to introduce her and Jude to their Godparents.

"So while we don't want you to worry about the details, we do want you to know that arrangements have been made so that you will be taken care of. Okay?" Stef said encouragingly before the girl could ask what if she didn't like Jenna and Kelly. They had a meeting with their family lawyer booked for the week after the adoption to update the wills.

Callie nodded. Knowing that they would be able to stay together was a relief.

"Is that why Jude and I had to go to foster care? 'Cause our Mom and Dad didn't have a will?"

Stef shared a concerned glance with Lena. According to Bill, there had been no extended family around. Colleen and Donald had also been young so it wasn't out of the ordinary that they wouldn't have had close friends who would've wanted to take on the responsibility of being Godparents.

"I think it was a little more complicated than that, baby," she said honestly, placing a kiss onto her daughter's temple. "Not everyone has one. In your Mom and Dad's case, it sounds like they didn't have family that you and Jude could go to...so they probably didn't have much of a choice." She didn't want Callie to grow to resent her biological parents. "Right? It's not so black and white. But I believe they did what they thought was best for you and Jude."

Callie swallowed before articulating the biggest worry. "What if…you guys die before we get adopted?"

"Then you and Jude get adopted by Grams and Grandpa." Not wanting the kids to be ejected back into the system, they had it arranged so that her parents would petition the court for adoption so the family would remain intact.

The girl frowned. "For real?" she asked Lena.

"Yes. For real, Callie." That part wasn't written into the will yet but she and Stef had talked to her parents when they were going through the waiting period with Jesus and Mariana, and revisited it when Callie and Jude came along to ensure the agreement between them still stood.

"So…we wouldn't have to go back to foster care?"

"Nope. You aren't going back into foster care, kiddo," Stef confirmed.

Callie's gaze flitted between the women, searching their faces to make sure it was the truth before her vision blurred. It made her feel better to know Stef and Lena had thought about everything but the thought of having to go through that again—of not having them in her life suddenly and having to start over again with people she didn't know brought on a painful, familiar ache. "I can't lose you guys. I just got you," she said quietly.

Lena held Callie's hand, massaging the chubby palm with her thumb to keep her focused while allowing her wife to speak comforting words. "Oh, Cal…you're not going to lose us," Stef began. "Even if the unthinkable happened, we'd still be with you. People you love are always with you, no matter where they may be. Love knows no boundaries."

Callie frowned, dissatisfied by what she took as a sorry attempt at reassurance. It didn't feel as though her Mom was with her like everyone kept insisting. "It's not the same," she said sadly.

The cop sighed. "I know it's not. It's not fair," she clarified. In no way did she want to suggest that the situation Callie was in today, where she had to grow up without her birth parents, was in any way acceptable. Because it wasn't. Callie and Jude didn't deserve for their childhoods to have been casualties of a negligent decision by their Dad. "We would all choose to have the people we love with us over a memory of them."

Callie pulled on Stef's forearms again as she leaned back. "I miss my Mom," she said quietly, wondering if the women would resort to empty condolences to try and make her feel better. Like, _it'll get easier with time._ Or, _she's in a better place._

"No doubt you do, love. She sounds like an amazing woman." Stef planted a kiss onto her daughter's cheek before she could squirm out of her hold.

"I'm happy I found you guys, though," Callie said to Lena, giving her a sad smile.

"We're happy we found you, too, Callie. More than you'll ever know."

* * *

A/N: I'm so relieved that Callie is at a place where she can be open and honest with Lena, and look forward to developing this as the status quo and giving her more of a voice. So much of her character has been internalized until now that I'm curious about how readers are hearing her.


	47. Laying Groundwork

**Author Note** :

Thanks for all your messages and follows, and welcome new readers. I truly appreciate your support.

A few of you planted the seed for this chapter a while back. I wasn't sold on it at first, simply because I wasn't sure where it'd fit, but space naturally evolved and now here we are...some much-needed time for Callie with the Moms. Many thanks to **AllyCallie** for being a sounding board in the early stages of fleshing out content and to **theypreferthetermpeople** for her feedback and fearlessness (and patience!) in working with it.

A heads up that a slight time jump is ahead to begin to prepare IUW for a soft landing. Nearly time for new adventures. ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 45** : Laying Groundwork

After discovering the depth of Callie and Jude's worries, it felt like an appropriate time to review the household rules to help put those anxieties to rest. No child deserved to be fearful of losing a parent's affection or having their basic needs go unmet for being disobedient, which was a normal part of growing up.

Given that most of the expectations were identical for all the children, a family meeting seemed like the best venue. That way, Callie and Jude would have the chance to feel supported by their siblings than if they were singled out. The Moms had quickly gone over what was and wasn't allowed the afternoon Bill had brought them to the house, perhaps naively believing that was sufficient since it was what they had done for the twins. In hindsight, it had been woefully inadequate. Mariana and Jesus had been much younger and had easily trusted them for having their best interests in mind. Ana had been the only person to have let them down, so broken promises and negligence had been compartmentalized to her, rather than generalized to others. In contrast, Callie and Jude had been repeatedly failed by adults so they'd learned to trust very few people. Slowly but surely, Stef and Lena had been chipping away at their fears.

A conversation later with each of them would be necessary, since personal hygiene and the specifics of Callie's probation were less appropriate for a group format. Their first meeting as a family of seven, the kids seemed to sense how special it was. Brandon and the twins volunteered the rules with little complaint, including the reasoning for them and consequences for breaking them, so Stef and Lena barely had to facilitate. The conversation had been casual and they had Callie and Jude's full participation with little encouragement. At times, it'd been downright funny. Jude enthusiastically offered _safety_ as the primary reason for nearly every rule covered, seemingly unable to elaborate beyond that. At another point in their discussion, the kids teamed up on them to negotiate a later curfew. Finally, when they relented, promising to extend it as soon as school was out for the summer months, Jude and Jesus erupted in protest. They were each facing the possibility of repeating a class at summer school and the extension wouldn't apply to them in that case.

The Moms observed as Callie listened attentively and made a genuine effort to take it all in. By the look on her face, they could tell she was surprised when Mariana pointed out that the more they abided by their guidelines, the more freedom and privileges they would have—within reason, of course. For Callie, who already had years of independence, this would be a huge motivator. Never would they allow her to be unsupervised or come and go to the extent she wanted, but they were willing to let her do a whole lot more should she prove herself trustworthy and capable of making better decisions. They were a long way from that, however—at least a year, if not more—owing to the fear that another mistake while on probation would be costly. For now, the most that mattered was that Callie appeared accepting of the information coming from her peers, highlighted as simply being routine. It was as if, for the first time, she recognized that not only was she accountable to her parents but to her siblings.

* * *

"Hon ** _ey_** … Come on, this isn't supposed to be hard," Stef coaxed, nerves grating as she waited for an answer. "What are our house rules that we talked about together? Just start with one."

It was after dinner and the entire family was out in the backyard, the kids blowing off steam before having to get ready for bed. Disinclined to wait too long to continue their earlier conversation, they'd kept Jude behind to privately discuss their expectations around his grades and hygiene before cutting him loose. Getting Callie to return when it was her turn had been the bigger challenge. While they'd been speaking to Jude, she and Jesus had discovered a new game which involved hanging out by the corner of the deck and a lot of intermittent screaming and back and forth from the garden. Whatever it was must have been fun because Callie wasn't very enthused about having it interrupted, despite her initial agreement to come when called. Finally, a promise of another helping of dessert on the deck changed her mind.

" _What_?" Callie snapped in irritation when Stef dropped her head into her hands. Her foster mom was hampering her ability to savour the dessert. Deciding to take her time, she picked up her fork and proceeded to go to town on her brownie.

"I asked you a question that I'm waiting for your response to," Stef reminded, frowning as Callie brought the entire square up to her mouth and took the largest bite she could. This was like pulling teeth. Nothing about what they were bringing up was new or meant to be intimidating. Because Callie became easily overwhelmed, they had been trying to revisit their ground rules with her. But having to contend with her digging her heels was proving to be an ordeal.

Lena waited for her daughter to wipe milk from the corner of her mouth before deciding to pick up where Stef left off. "Callie," she said with a hint of sternness in her voice, making it clear an answer was expected.

"There's too many," Callie whined. She gave Lena an apologetic look, sensing she was on thin ice with Stef. She wasn't trying to be stubborn but she didn't get why they were repeating their talk when she'd already agreed to do what they said. And there was a _lot_ ; the women were more strict than her own Mom had been. Honestly, it'd be impossible to obey all of them even if she tried. Oftentimes, stuff she didn't think was a big deal or seemed like a good solution—like signing Jude's assignments—turned out not to be, or would lead to a chain of poor decisions.

"Why don't we break them up?" Lena suggested, wondering if a different approach might make them less daunting. They were all tired today, Callie especially from fighting her cold, and she wanted her to succeed. "Think about the expectations at school, first. What are they?"

"Mm. Get to class on time…no skipping. No forgetting homework or handing stuff in late. Be respectful to teachers…don't get written up or get detention or sent to your office or anything like that."

Lena beamed with pride at her daughter. She suspected that those had probably been easy because school had remained the most consistent for Callie throughout all their moves but she was still impressed. Callie was an anomaly. It was unusual to see a child succeed in their classes when they had been constantly uprooted. "Those are the main ones, yes. You make wonderful grades, honey, so we aren't worried about that, but you can't skip—and you certainly can't attend to hand in your work or write a quiz and leave because you know you can still do well," she emphasized as Callie nodded.

"Right. It doesn't work that way," Stef interjected to back up her wife. "Do you understand why?"

"It's in my terms, I have to go."

Stef resisted the urge to roll her eyes. While Callie wasn't incorrect, she had been hoping for a demonstration of greater accountability and insight. "Okay. That's one reason and we will be getting to that in a minute. Why else?"

Callie shrugged before deciding to recite Brandon's answer from earlier. "It's disrespectful to your teachers, 'cause they're expecting you."

Stef nodded; the answer was from B, word-for-word, but she was happy to see their daughter was at least trying. "Beautiful, my love. It's a bit disrespectful to us, too, because your job is to go to school and that's where Mama and I expect you to be."

"'Kay," Callie conceded, though it annoyed her to give in. True, school had been a haven for her all these years, but she always had the option of going or not and it didn't sit well with her to have that choice taken away.

"What about at home?" Lena asked.

Finding the hangnail she'd chewed on earlier, Callie popped the side of her finger into her mouth. Lena had mentioned trimming it but had forgotten and she wasn't planning on reminding her. "Uhm, be respectful," Callie began, repeating what had earned her the most recent praise. "Come home on time—don't miss curfew…answer if you text or call," she trailed off as she found herself floundering. "Ask before going anywhere or doing anything…like if I have to use the bathroom," Callie sassed, getting angry as she remembered she didn't even have her phone. In fact, she was stuck with Stef and Lena. She'd gone and messed up so bad that she was grounded _to_ them.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Lena said, sympathizing with Callie's frustration. Their daughter was really taking being on restriction hard.

Stef scooted all the way over on her patio chair to make room for her daughter. Callie's discouragement had not been lost on her, either. "My love…come here. I know. This is overwhelming, isn't it?" she soothed as she helped the girl squeeze in. Regretting her irritability earlier, she wrapped her arms around Callie. Her daughter wasn't being difficult on purpose. "It was a good start, though. Let's try what Mama suggested and group them together." Trying to make the instruction more tangible, she wracked her brain for an example. "Curfew and answering us when we're making an effort to contact you have to do with us knowing where you are so we can find you in an emergency. That's why we need you to be where you say you'll be. Right now, you have a couple more in this category as Mama explained, but it won't be like that forever," she encouraged.

As she listened to her foster mom, Callie leaned in her and brought her knees up to fit better in the small space between Stef and the metal arm of the chair. She was starting to feel a bit better already.

"What about some of the ones that have to do with how we treat each other in our family?" Lena asked, hopeful that cuing would make this process less overwhelming.

"Treat and talk to others how you want to be," Callie said quietly. "Respectfully."

"Wonderful. And what might that look like?"

"Not swearing…don't get physical with anyone. Not talking back."

Stef nodded. "Right. It means watching how your words and actions affect others. That includes attitude as well. Just because someone isn't using swear words or talking back doesn't mean their tone and body language is respectful," she added, narrowing her gaze at the girl. Callie definitely had a penchant for mouthing off.

"All five of you also have to look out for one another," Lena added. "That's different from looking after one another. There's only two of us and five of you; we expect all of you to be our eyes and ears so we can do our job as parents." She laughed softly when Callie gave her a blank stare.

"You mean like tattle on each other?" her daughter replied, incredulous at the thought.

"No, baby. We don't want you to tattle on your siblings. But if someone is having difficulty and Mama and I need to know about it so we can help them, then you tell us," Stef explained.

"What else? There were some about how we take care of ourselves," Lena prompted, not interested in getting sucked into a debate on what constituted tattling or not.

Callie nodded. "Lights out is at nine."

"And what does that mean?"

"The, uhm, lights have to be out," the girl stammered. _What else would that mean?_

Lena smiled. "You don't have to sleep but it does have to be dark in the room and you do not leave your room unless it's to use the bathroom. Quiet activities if you aren't tired is okay. What else? What about our expectations around breakfast and dinner?" she asked, continuing to quiz her daughter.

"Come down for breakfast on time and be home for dinner and eat together unless you're sick."

"Atta girl," Stef praised, thrilled that their daughter did listen. "What if someone's not hungry?"

"We have to be there anyway because it's important to have time all together," Callie recited. "That's better than having to go to school super early to stand in line for the charity breakfast," she piped up. The bread at home tasted better.

"Callie! That was a rude thing to say" Lena scolded, cringing at her word choices. Taking a deep breath at the blank look Callie gave her, she decided to let it go; now was not an appropriate time for a discussion on the role of school breakfast programs in equalizing learning opportunities and how it was not charity. "Eating on time with the rest of the family. It doesn't mean there aren't exceptions; Brandon goes to Mike's sometimes, or someone could be at a friend's house, as long as they ask first. Also, part of taking care of ourselves means Mom and I encourage all of you make healthy choices. So at home, we eat balanced meals. We can't control what you eat when you're out, but you are _not_ to smoke or drink alcohol. That's final."

"Yeah, Mama."

"You have a rule with us about showering and taking care of your body. Do you remember?" Lena cued.

"I have to let you guys help, until you decide not to anymore, even though it's weird," Callie grumbled. Not only was it embarrassing, but it wasn't fair that that one only applied to her and Jude.

"Honey, it's not weird to need help," Lena soothed. They had never intended to shame her.

"It _is_! Plus I don't even need help. I shower every day and brush my teeth like you say!" Callie's voice climbed in frustration as she spoke. "I've always done it myself and you only made it a problem when I came here."

" _Hey_. Hey, hey, hey," Stef said, not appreciating the tone. They'd already had countless arguments about Callie's dissatisfaction over not being able to do what she was used to doing before, and she knew better than to fall down that hole again by acknowledging it. She did understand that it was difficult for Callie to have them in and around the shower, however, and sympathized with her. "You're doing a wonderful job at getting into the shower and brushing these days, Cal, but it's so important that all the steps are completed." Even that concession was a generous one because often Callie did not independently engage in her self-care without repeated reminders. They wanted her to do those things without them having to say so.

"It's _my_ body!" Callie argued obstinately.

"It's your body, yes," Stef validated. "And you only have one so that's why it's so important to take care of it. Until Mama and I are confident that you can manage things on your own, this is part of learning to take care of yourself. You're already doing a much better job," she pointed out, recalling the early days of standing outside the door at each shower to call out each step. Now, they only had to assist once every few days, even though they were more hands on. In many respects, Callie actually had more independence than when she had first moved in.

"Yes, but—" Callie began, desperate to make a point that would get them to loosen up a little. She was impatient to prove to her foster moms that she could do it on her own but didn't really understand their insistence in the first place.

Stef held up a hand. "No buts, Callie. Show us by not stalling when it's time to shower and get ready in the morning and at night, and doing what you need to do to take care of your body from head to toe, and we will reevaluate." It was the best they could do at this point. The more their daughter demonstrated independence and thoroughness, the less they would intervene.

"Yeah, but— _Mom_! I really want to say something! You can't just say no buts like that," Callie huffed, annoyed by the non committal answer. Every time Stef and Lena said they would reevaluate, it meant it wouldn't happen for a while.

"Okay. What is it that you have to say?" Lena said after taking a deep breath.

"Why does it matter if there's some dirt leftover? It's my body and no one else sees it, and I don't mind," Callie said. Even though she hated this, she was trying hard not to lose it for fear this conversation would be over.

The women exchanged a tired glance between them, with Lena deciding she'd better take the helm on this. "You're not wrong, honey, but it's more than cleanliness. Washing yourself completely is part of keeping yourself healthy. Dirt and sweat that gets trapped in your pores can lead to skin problems. Fungus underneath nails can cause an infection," she reasoned calmly. "And yes, no one else sees your body but you, but trust me sweetheart you're not going to always think that way. As much as Mom and I hope that's years away—"

"—Many, many years," Stef interjected. She did not like the idea of any of her children having sex.

Lena cleared her throat before continuing. "As much as Mom and I hope that it will be many years before you become interested in sharing your body with others, it's better to keep good habits now than worrying about them later."

"If guys don't like me for who I am then it's their loss," Callie replied stubbornly. She wasn't gonna change herself for nobody.

"I hope you'll always remember that when times do come up when you find yourself under pressure to change who you are for someone," Lena agreed. "That being said, there is a world of difference between that and attending to your hygiene. That should be done for you and your own confidence, and not for anyone else. Does that make sense?" she asked, wondering if she might have to repeat herself.

Callie groaned, rolling her eyes. "Okayyy. If you're so obsessed about who I'm gonna sleep with _many many years_ from now that's fine," she said with a smirk, pleased with herself for coming up with a comment that would get under Stef's skin.

The cop's mouth dropped open; this kid's lip was astounding. " _That_ —is—not—funny," she said once she recovered from her shock. She accentuated each word with a pinch to the b _a_ ck of Callie's neck, causing her to squeal with laughter.

"Okay! I'll stop! I'll _stop_!" Callie relented through giggles.

"Okay is more like it. Tell us that more often rather than arguing," the cop said, though her tone was more jovial than reproving. She was relieved that the tension had been all but dissipated by the humour and ignored the eye roll from Lena. As a teacher, her wife simply didn't feel comfortable telling their children to behave simply for the sake of behaving.

Luckily, that wasn't the way Stef had been brought up. "Talk to me about the consequences for disobeying?"

"Uhm. Losing _everything_!" Callie said dramatically, still bummed about earlier. She stopped whining when Stef gave her an unimpressed look, telling her she wasn't playing around and expected more.

"Not being allowed privileges, like TV…losing stuff, but not like food or clothes or your help. Getting grounded or having to write lines or an essay for you or Mama," she offered.

"Good girl," Stef praised. Her daughter's listening skills were not as terrible tonight as she'd thought they would be with her being sick. "We may also ask you to rectify the situation by apologizing for what you did and making amends in other ways, like with extra chores," she added, though chores always left Callie unfazed so it was more of an empty threat.

Callie sighed. She'd gotten all of that and more.

"Now. Spanking. It's not something we want to do, but if we find ourselves in a situation where you are compelled to put yourself at risk after we've warned you…then that is something Mama and I will have to think about," Stef warned, choosing her words carefully. It was far from ideal to gloss over the behaviours for which this type of consequence would be considered, but the reality was that the decision would be made on a case-by-case basis, making it tricky to give concrete examples. It would depend on what else had been tried, the greater backdrop of what else was going on with her behaviour, and whether they felt she would have the ability to reflect and develop insight on the behaviour—enough so that she wouldn't repeat it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lena swallow; her wife was not completely happy with this but after many lengthy discussions between them, she had relented to the option of physical discipline as a last resort.

"We've talked about this before, lovebug," Stef reminded as Callie began to protest. "It is our job to protect you, and if that's what's needed to ensure your safety and well-being then that is what will happen. I have told you before that being a parent means that sometimes, we have to make decisions that you won't like on account of what we believe is best for you. Please try to understand that sometimes these decisions are going to come before your happiness and that you won't see it from our perspective. You're allowed to feel that way."

Stef paused as she felt her breath catch. Not having realized that she'd been getting increasingly emotional as she spoke, the physical manifestation of her distress caught her off guard. The fact that they were even considering resorting to this didn't make her proud. In fact, it made her feel like a failure in the parenting department. But her gut told her it would only be a matter of time before she would once again be utterly beside herself with worry, astonishment, and grief over her daughter's behaviour. They weren't able to watch her all the time, and this was Callie—not a troublemaker in the least, but a child with a good heart and an impulsive nature. If this strategy was one in their parenting arsenal that could increase Callie's chances of staying out of trouble, she would choose it without hesitation. She would choose feeling like a failure if it meant keeping her daughter out of legal trouble and in their home.

"I'm sorry, honey. That's just the way the cards land. We have to be your parents first and do what's best for you. Even if you might not see it that way," she explained as she stroked Callie's hair, as if seeking forgiveness for what she was having to tell her. "We care so much for you, Cal.

"Does this seem fair to you?" she eventually asked. They didn't need Callie to like their decision, but she was desperate for their daughter to understand where they were coming from.

Comforted by the closeness with her foster mom, Callie leaned in closer so her ear was pressed into Stef's side. She shook her head no. "No," she replied, hearing her faraway words echo back to her. "But whatever, it's not that big a deal." To be honest, she'd expected this, anyways.

"Callie…," Lena sighed, surprised at the acceptance. She had anticipated this talk about consequences would have edged her daughter dangerously close towards becoming unwound. She swallowed, knowing her participation was required to show that, as parents, they were in solidarity. It was what she'd agreed to. "Hitting is always big deal. It's a _huge_ deal, actually. That is why Mom and I will be giving you lots of chances to turn things around before it ever gets to that point. We don't want to see it get to that point."

It wasn't ideal, but much of her initial opposition towards Stef's position on discipline had been mitigated by learning Callie had simply interpreted Stef's intentions as being similar to Colleen's—implying that she processed what had happened as distinct from previous abuse. There was also her increasing attachment to the both of them, which made it easier for her to separate them and their actions from those of past foster parents.

At hearing Lena speak up, Callie let her gaze flit between her new moms before she turned into Stef's side. She knew in that moment, based on what Lena was saying, that they agreed. That was new.

Dissuading their daughter from hiding when they were trying to talk to her, Stef gently caught her chin. "You're aware of the rules so you have a lot of control about the outcome, yes?" she asked once she had eye contact. The girl nodded reluctantly. "So is it fair?" This was so important in being able to gauge Callie's comprehension. If there was any doubt of a lack of understanding, she would abort this whole idea.

"It's fair, okay?" Callie grumbled, surprising both women by acquiescing. She wasn't thrilled; the day Stef had caught her going into her safe was not an experience she was keen on having repeated, even though she owned the fact that she had made a poor decision. But Stef was right; they had told her exactly what they wanted.

The cop nodded appreciatively at Lena, grateful for her support. Wrapping her arm around Callie, she rubbed her arm to reassure her. "Remember, if it were to happen, it's going to be because we need to remind you that you went too far—so whatever it is won't be repeated. Not because you were bad, or because we want you to pay, or take our anger out on you. Not because we don't love you. Got it?"

"Kay, Mom." Tired of talking, she turned her face into her foster mom's side, taking solace in the peck Stef placed on the top of her head.

"There's one more thing we have to talk about Callie and that's your probation. I know you don't like having it brought up, but we have to. Sit up and look at me, baby, so I can tell you are listening." She shifted in the chair and waited for Callie to do the same. "You're a smart girl so I think you already know what we're going to say…but please, please, _please_ be mindful to abide by your conditions."

Because Callie was already part of the juvenile justice system which was designed to be punitive rather than to parent, a single breach of her terms could result in her being taken back into custody. Away from them and their home where they required her to be to ensure her well being. After all these months wishing Callie would accept them as her family, they couldn't fathom the thought of losing her. Now that she had bonded with them, that idea was much harder to stomach. Callie still had over six months before her probation would finally be lifted, and that seemed like an insurmountable challenge.

Callie shrugged. "I do try, Mom," she said quietly.

"I know you do try, Cal. It's so important that you keep trying."

She knew it was easy for Callie to forget that the stakes were higher for her. Being a kid was more complicated for her because she could face stiffer consequences for misbehaviour that would normally be dealt with at home or school, and she didn't like being reminded of that fact. "It's not fair. It's not fair that you have to be careful and that you have less freedom to do some of what you probably see as being normal for your peers. But it's only temporary, and that's why we have these rules in place for you," she explained. "Follow them and we won't have an issue." The way they had it set up, all Callie had to do was to stick to their guidelines to meet her conditions.

"Say yes, Callie. That you understand what I'm saying and that I'm telling you this because you need to be home and nowhere else."

"I understand, but it still sucks," Callie complained.

The cop sighed. "It does. But it can suck without it having any bearing on your ability to follow them," she reiterated. It was so important that Callie take things seriously. "As long as you do, we won't have a problem," she said with finality.

Lena was more curious. "What sucks, honey?" she pressed, not sure which part of this discussion their child wasn't amenable to.

Feeling hot tears prick her eyes, Callie took a deep breath. She didn't want to cry but couldn't help it. "There's too many. I'm not going to remember it all, and then you are going to punish me for it and I'll get taken away!" Callie said, all at once frustrated and dejected. Although it was easier knowing exactly what was expected of her and that she'd be loved and cared for even if she were to fall short, it was a lot to keep track of.

"Oh, Cal, _no_. No, sweetness." Not sure how to respond, Stef gave her wife a pleading look. If she didn't know Callie better she would've chalked all of this up to being dramatic, but she knew better. Callie must've been so overwhelmed to have come to the conclusion she had. Although, it was promising that she had considered the consequences for once. "Your probation might get extended if you breach your conditions, but you would never be taken away solely for disobeying us. What I meant was that our house rules cover them already."

"Like curfew," Lena pointed out, seeing the girl's confusion. "As long as you worry about ours, you don't have to keep track of the one you have as part of your conditions. Make sense?"

"Okay. But it's _still_ too much," Callie said sadly, discouraged at the reminder of needing to be home by a certain time.

Lena paused, considering what could be done to shape this discussion into something that was less about Callie's legal predicament and more about normalizing her experiences relative to the other children. "How about if we write everything out on the chalkboard in the kitchen where all of us, including Mom and I, can see it?" Perhaps they could make it into a family activity, where all of them pledged their agreement by signing the bottom or tracing their own hand.

"We're gonna have to get a second chalkboard," the girl complained, glowering at her mother.

"That is not true!" Lena defended. It would only be a handful, she thought, mentally counting the ones that would be displayed. Beginning to get exasperated, Lena searched for the right words to explain to her thirteen-year-old that security came with having clear limits. "Everyone needs boundaries, honey," she began, scooting up to sit at the edge of her chair. Placing her elbows on her knees, she leaned in so she could talk to Callie, who had returned to her slumped position beside Stef. "This might all seem like a lot now, but our expectations for you are not unreasonable—in fact…they're exactly the same as what they are for Jude, Jesus and Mariana, and B," she pointed out while she had her daughter's undivided attention. "I promise it will be a lot less overwhelming once you get used to them."

"I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you and Jude to have to adjust each time you moved from one place to the next. And now you're having to do it all over again and that's hard isn't it?" She turned the girl's chin up slightly when Callie nodded agreement. "Yeah. It is," she validated. "But you did. You've done it before—and you have it in you to do it one last time, because you don't have to worry about moving on from here."

"But _..._ how come I can't just live here and…"

Stef cocked an eyebrow, somehow anticipating what Callie was going to ask before the words left her mouth.

"...and you guys let me do what I want?"

Trying not to let Callie to see her amusement at the childish question, Stef rested her cheek against her daughter's head before looking to Lena, who was also trying not to laugh. Times like this she wished Colleen was around so she could find out how stubborn and temperamental Callie had been as a young child. "Remember, this is as much your home as it is ours, Cal. We're not _letting_ you live here—it's already yours to call your own. You'll be living here regardless. But as much as you're used to it, Mama and I cannot let you run around free to do as you please. We just can't honey. Please try to understand. We wouldn't be good parents if we allowed that." Short of calling previous caregivers neglectful, this was the best she could come up with.

Part of their daughter's reluctance to blindly obey was understandable. She wasn't used to clear, predictable expectations or adults she could rely on. "Sweetheart? Does it upset you more that we are telling you what to do? Or because you're not used to having anyone tell you what to do before—and you think that's the way it should be?" Lena asked carefully. She had thought the tides might change after Callie got a chance to contemplate, following her initial agreeableness during their family meeting.

"Both, I guess?" the girl said after a little while. She understood Stef and Lena were coming from a place of caring, but their overprotectiveness frustrated her all the same. It felt controlling, especially when she could look after herself and didn't need parenting. "I dunno, but it wasn't like this."

"What was it like, then?" the cop challenged. She suspected what Callie was getting at but had no plans to intervene to encourage Callie to articulate her frustrations. That was the only way learning would take place.

The girl frowned as she tried to come up with an answer. Foster care was simply a network of houses she and Jude could crash at and get food from. _Sometimes._ Rules had been different. They only had to learn what not to do to keep the adults around them from blowing up, which was to mostly stay out of their way. Otherwise, they enjoyed their freedom. "We had rules, not so many though…"

Stef sighed and shook her head. "Can I tell you what I think?" she asked, cradling her daughter in the crook of her arm as she waited for permission to venture on. "I bet you and Jude had rules. But neither of you knew it because you were both so focused on following them to keep bad things from happening to you—rather than being accountable to other people for your own best interests." She wasn't trying to be harsh but was trying to have Callie understand.

"Yeah. That," Callie agreed. She hadn't thought of it before but her foster mom's explanation had made sense. It was crazy how well Stef knew her. She knew things she didn't even know about herself.

"Now it feels like you're having to do a lot for us, and it's not completely clear why," Stef pointed out. "Is that what's going on?" A dysfunctional pattern, but oh so predictable.

She saw it whenever it was her turn at the precinct to deliver the life skills workshop for youth. _"You haven't done anything for me, why should I do anything for you?"_ was a common retort if she dared to ask for participation. It used to get her back up—she was the one spending the night before reviewing the materials, and she was the one standing up there doing her job. For _them_! But like Callie, they couldn't see she was trying to help them. It didn't speak to their experiences of how the world worked for them.

Unsure if her foster moms were upset with her, Callie's gaze flitted cautiously between them. "Yeah. I didn't have to worry bout doing so much for other people." Life had been more chaotic then, but in many ways simpler too.

Lena nodded in understanding. Compared to Jude, Callie—by virtue of being older—saw limits as an inconvenience, an undertaking for adults instead of healthy constraints that were in place for her own good. "I'm sure it's not easy learning to be accountable to people other than yourself when it's not what you've been used to for so long," she empathized. It would take time to erase this sort of thinking but in the meantime, she and Stef were determined to get her through the motions in order to familiarize Callie with this new narrative. One that was more appropriate for her age.

Her wife, however, was more blunt.

"Was that really a good thing, love? To be running around with no rules or expectations?" Stef asked. Deep down, she believed Callie knew the answer even though she didn't like it. That the reason they'd been allowed to do whatever they wanted was out of convenience for the people they'd been placed with, and because they hadn't been cared for adequately. "It may have been easy but that also meant they weren't doing much for you, either," she said as gently as she could.

Callie's lip quivered as she considered what Stef was saying. She was right, of course; they hadn't cared about her like Stef and Lena did.

"So…it's kinda like that, sweetheart," Stef continued. "You got what you wanted, but it meant you didn't get a lot of what you needed, either. Things you probably didn't even know about."

"But what if I disappoint you?" Callie asked tentatively, pulling herself away from the woman to level her with a serious look. It was months before they'd get adopted. Her eyes began to well at the thought that her foster moms would get fed up that she couldn't meet their expectations and changed their minds. "What if I mess up?"

"I hate to break it to you, Bug, but you will make mistakes and disappoint Mama and I with some of your choices." Chuckling at how taken aback the girl looked, she continued. "Growth and learning don't happen without the mess. You can't be afraid of that...of trying."

As she listened, Lena realized that one of the reasons why Callie fought so hard against them was likely because she lacked confidence in her ability to stay within their limits. She feared what it'd mean for her if she failed. "If you make a mistake, then we would talk about it. You would get a consequence to help remind you next time, and we would move on. Same as what's been happening and not a big deal though it might seem that way."

Sniffing, the girl snuggled up closer to Stef. She let the woman stroke her hair, taking solace in the methodical contact, and her worries subsided as she listened to Lena's words.

"You've got to let go of this worry of yours that if you can't meet our expectations that we would get rid of you. "Because we would never do that," Lena said with a finality she knew would calm Callie right down. This was the monster lurking in the shadows.

Callie gave her a sad smile. She did believe them. It was just difficult to not pay attention to the intrusive thoughts.

"Honey, the rules and consequences are in place for your own happiness and safety. It's natural that you're not thrilled about them. I don't think your siblings like them, either. But like we've explained, everyone has boundaries."

"You might be afraid of some of the consequences," Stef acknowledged. "But if you start worrying about whether you can stay in this family...or if you find yourself afraid of Mama and I, you tell us. No one deserves to feel that way." She was serious. They planned on reevaluating the consequences they had in mind on a regular basis to avoid disrupting Callie's sense of safety and security in their home again.

"There is nothing— _nothing_ , Callie—that you could do that would make Mama and I not want you. You aren't disposable, love. You're worthy of being loved," she said. She rubbed Callie's arms to emphasize her point, surprised to find goosebumps. "Don't you ever forget that."

Callie looked up at her, eyes big with worry. "But I do forget sometimes. Like when you're mad at me," she said, making a rare concession of her vulnerability. Those thoughts always came back. "Remember when we first got here and you guys took me and Jude to the beach with everyone and we hadn't been there in a really long time so it was new again?"

Stef smiled at the excitability behind the sentence. Her daughter had spoken so quickly she was out of breath. "I do. It was one of our first outings as a family."

"Well it's kinda like that time."

"Hm? How do you mean?" Stef said neutrally, as she tried to keep up with what Callie was getting at.

"You put so much effort into trying to get your feet into the sand but your footprints get smoothed over pretty quick." All it took was a bit of a breeze, or someone walking close by, and all evidence of them having been there at all was erased. Her expression was sad as she grappled to find the right words. "Like, it's easier to forget than to remember." Even though they had talked about the topic together many times, it was easy to lose track of the specifics.

Forgetting the details never failed to stoke her greatest fear. Without evidence, she couldn't help worrying that she had remembered what they had said wrong. If she had somehow misinterpreted what they told her.

She bit her lip, searching her foster mom's face for clues that what she was about to ask was acceptable. "So can you keep telling me lots?" It wasn't the same as being told by someone else.

Stef stared at her daughter, impressed. Callie was asking them for a reminder that they loved her. What used to be a rare occurrence—Callie asking them for anything—was becoming more common. "Tell you what. We will remind you every day. Until you tell us to stop."

"Every day?"

"Yup. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Lena sighed contentedly as Stef's hands settled into the rhythm of an impromptu massage, easing the tension in her shoulders. They were still outside, enjoying their moment of relative peace as the kids played in the yard. Mariana, Brandon, and Jude were taking turns with the big jump rope while Callie and Jesus continued to loiter by the deck. For a while, they'd been amongst the beds, filling a jar with what appeared to be loose soil and leaves, but now they were back by the house, this time armed with a large twig. Whatever it was they were up to, Stef was convinced it wasn't good. She'd almost gone over there but Lena had told her to sit and relax. It wasn't easy to find time for each other and when they did, it was precious, even if it was amidst the chaos their children were cooking up.

"She could've gone to school, couldn't she?" Stef questioned, smiling as she caught glimpse of her wife's guilty expression.

"Maybe. But she technically still has a fever," Lena defended, leaning into those strong arms she loved so much. The way the fever kept reappearing whenever the next Tylenol dose approached was worrisome, but Callie was in a much better mood. She was also eating and drinking well so Lena was hopeful that with more rest, whatever it was would soon clear up. "And we had such a great day together."

"I'm just giving you a hard time," Stef admitted. "I think our Bug probably needed to be home." She had been a little wistful when they decided Lena wouldn't be going into work; being the higher income earner, her wife usually went in, leaving her to dig into her sick bank to care for whichever child was staying home. In the end, it'd been the right call. She'd gotten to bond with Jude. And all day, Callie had shared her worries with Lena, giving them greater insight as to what was going on and the opportunity to address her fears head on.

Hand cramping, Stef rested her head on Lena's shoulder and curled up against her. "Do you think she heard us?"

Lena bit her lip as she reflected upon their conversation with Callie. There had been a bit of sullenness towards the end that she thought probably owed to their daughter being sick. Although, Callie had surprised them by listening and not becoming argumentative, even when she didn't like what they had to say. "I think Miss Callie heard us just fine. I'm not sure she was happy about everything we told her, though."

"But are we doing right by her?"

Lena sighed, knowing her wife was referring to their decision to spank should they deem it necessary. Given her conflicted feelings on the topic, she had no idea how to balance her biases with Stef's need for reassurance and sensitivity. If it weren't for Stef, this wouldn't even be on the table. "We are going to drive ourselves crazy if we ruminate on trying to answer that question, babe. We have no idea if we're doing right by any of our children. And we won't for a long time. Maybe never."

It was the truth. They didn't know and could only do their best with what they knew now. After several agonizing arguments over whether corporal punishment should be used, the conversation had shifted towards the circumstances in which it might be warranted, and they reached an agreement they both felt they could live with. But that was the key phrase: _live with_. It was a solution they weren't fully satisfied with; one that only existed because they couldn't find a better alternative to.

Despite her reluctance with this sort of disciplinary measure, several factors had swayed Lena's opinion. Callie's behaviour had undeniably improved after the incident with the gun safe. Without having to constantly fight with their daughter over her behaviour, there'd been more space for positive interactions that nurtured their relationship. In fact, her attachment to them was more secure than ever: she had expressed her desire to live with them and was slowly identifying their family as her own. Callie still tested their limits but on the whole had been trying to behave, and was more willing to take responsibility when mistakes were made. Though not ideal, Lena was also able to appreciate how her daughter's impulsivity both demanded and responded to consequences that were immediate and tangible.

It wasn't those everyday occurrences of misbehaviour they worried about. They had a good repertoire of strategies for forging notes, breaking items, and skipping the odd class that Callie responded to: the loss of privileges, lines, forced participation in rectifying a situation. Time in. It was those game changers—those situations Callie would get herself into for which the actual legal consequences would damage her sense of worth and long term development—that they worried about. And with nearly eight months of probation left, she had come to share Stef's sense of urgency to find a solution that would see Callie to the end without issue. Neither were confident that their daughter would be able to steer clear of serious trouble, and they feared that she would be removed from their care if they couldn't keep her on the right path. Even adoption wouldn't be able to stop that from happening. If physical admonishment would be enough to dissuade her and mean the potential of less trauma in the long run, so be it. In that regard, she agreed with Stef that they were weighing the risks of one consequence against another to try to protect Callie. They wanted her to be a part of their family as much as she wanted them to be a part of her's.

Stef had been grateful for Lena's support. With the way the conversation between them had been left off, she was certain that if it was a consequence they would one day decide to follow through with, it would be a rare occurrence. Although Callie's insight was often limited, they believed that she was at the point where she truly was motivated to behave—if only to avoid consequences. Plus, both of them were uncomfortable enough by the idea that they'd agreed it would only be used sparingly and as a last resort. They had also decided this would not be a consideration past the age of thirteen; by then, they hoped Callie would have developed intrinsic motivation to behave. Something Lena had requested was a consult with Dr. Wiseman once the adoption was formalized so they could disclose what had happened without the repercussion of having Callie taken away since it would no longer be illegal. This would allow them to get parenting advice from a professional, and give Callie the opportunity to debrief if that was what she chose. Of course, it would be reported to the Department of Social Services and their foster license would be permanently suspended, but neither of them could fathom having any more than five children. Their home and hearts were bursting at the seams with the addition of Callie and Jude, and their family felt complete.

The cop dropped her arms and curled against Lena's back in defeat. "She can be so headstrong," she muttered, unable to understand how such an endearing child with a heart full with love and concern for others could also engender such anger and astonishment within her.

Lena threw her head back and laughed. "Stubborn like you."

" _What_? Am not!" Stef defended, a tad too quickly. She rubbed her temple and sighed; her wife was right. "Seriously, though. What was it that she asked us?"

"Ohhh _goodness_ …" Lena breathed, remembering the exact moment Stef was referring to. "Oh, what was it?" It was on the tip of her tongue.

"I believe it was somewhere along the lines of, 'Why can't you let me do what I want?' the cop managed to squeak out before she and Lena both dissolved into bellyaching laughter that brought tears down their faces. After a few minutes, when she thought she'd calmed down enough to take a breath, she nearly doubled over in pain. " _Ouch—stitch_ —ow!" she cried, putting pressure on her diaphragm.

"Shhh!" Lena scolded, dabbing at her eyes. She felt bad for laughing at Callie. "Poor thing," she said sympathetically. The girl's confusion had been honest. "She meant it, too."

"I know she did," Stef agreed.

Suddenly, the tears that flowed were from a place of sadness. Because Callie's lack of understanding was truly the most challenging part in all of this. While it was counterproductive to obsess over the past, she couldn't help her regret that had other caregivers done their job, they wouldn't be in an uphill battle now; Callie would see their parenting as continuity, rather than a clawback of her autonomy. Worst of all, they couldn't even fault her for thinking this way because according to her experience, this was true.

"Lena…it is damn hard…it's _damn_ hard not to resent the people who didn't do their job," she said, her voice falling to a whisper. Home after home had failed them and had harmed the kids in more ways than neglecting their health. They had stunted their socioemotional development and robbed them of a childhood. This was what they were now working with, and while she'd never uttered her fears out loud, she feared that Callie and Jude were light-years behind and might never catch up. Drained, she crashed into her wife, allowing herself to surrender to the emotional tide.

Lena remained silent, holding her wife as she sobbed. It wasn't often that Stef cried, and that she was over Callie and Jude was a testament to how much they had wormed their way into her heart. "Shh…there's no point in going back. We have to look ahead for their sake," she eventually said, cradling her wife's face between her palms so she could wipe away her tears. What Stef had said resonated with her, but her role was to offer hope to hold onto.

"She's going to be okay right?" Stef asked brokenly, afraid of what Lena would say. If _no_ , her worst fear would come true; if _yes_ , her skeptical nature would always doubt its validity.

Lena's reply came without hesitation. "She is, honey. Callie is going to be just fine."

In the temporary relief those words brought, Stef broke down.

No one had ever reassured her.

Like Callie, she hadn't known to ask. She hadn't known what she needed.

Noticing their daughter make a beeline back towards the sitting area, Stef quickly dried her eyes and placed her head against her arm. Today was not a day she was prepared for her children to see her vulnerable.

Understanding this as her wife looked away, Lena smiled warmly at Callie. "Almost ready to head in for bed?" she asked as Callie leaned on the back of an empty patio chair." _Yes_?" she said, getting the sense the girl had something on her mind. "Did you have a question for us?"

"Uhm...Mama? Can Jesus and me have a little longer? We're not done yet." She shuffled nervously in place, not sure if the answer would be yes.

Lena sighed. Inevitably, one of the five would always ask for more time, and she and Stef almost always allowed it even if it was a school night. Fresh air did them good and Callie and Jude slept better after being outside. "Jesus and _I_ ," she corrected before glancing at her phone. "Alright. Fifteen more minutes. Is that enough time?" she asked, happy to give the impression that it was more of a negotiation than it actually was.

She tried not to laugh as Stef stared at her, incredulous, from across the table where Callie could not see her. It was rare for Callie to come forward with a request, and definitely not permission to stay out later in the yard.

The girl nodded and was about to run off when Stef grabbed her by the arm lightly to stop her. With her head crooked down, all she'd been able to see was Callie's feet. "Where are your sandals, baby?" she asked, mortified that her daughter had shed her shoes at some point without either of them noticing.

Callie looked around. She had no idea.

"Callie," Stef sighed as she turned her by the arm and saw dirt smudges on the back of her heels and up her calves. The end of her toes were blackened and her feet were covered with a fine layer of dust. Evidently the shoes had been off for quite a while. "Your feet are filthy. You were just all clean from your shower!" Lena had faced an uphill battle with washing Callie's feet earlier and she sympathized with her for the results not even lasting a day.

Catching sight of her daughter's dirty fingernails for the first time, Lena's eyes widened. "Have you two been digging in my yard?" She had painstakingly planted new bulbs a few weeks ago and the thought of the kids tramping over them after all that work disappointed her to no end. Like her efforts to get Callie clean, she feared she would have little to show for her time gardening.

"Oh, Bug. _Why_? _Why_ would you do that?" Stef pleaded. She winced as the leg on the patio chair Callie was leaning against scraped across the pavement, pushing her throbbing headache a little further into the realm of being unbearable.

"We tried not to step on anything," Callie defended. "We had to get pill bugs for our experiment."

Now Stef was really worried. "What experiment, honey? What are you two doing?" she begged, placing an arm around the girl to prevent her from going anywhere. No doubt it was wonderful that Callie had found a confidante in her sibling, but maternal instinct told her that those two would be fixing for trouble in no time.

"We're gonna see how many bugs that spider can eat before it gets full."

Stef swallowed, suspicious all of a sudden. "What spider?"

Callie giggled at the horrified look on her foster mom's face. "The one by the house, where the deck's at. It's web's a funnel and it jumps out every time we drop a bug into the web. It's _huge_." Her foster mom found them gross so she made sure to demonstrate its size with her hands. "Brandon said it's a wolf spider."

"So you're farming lice." A yard filled with games and her children were spending their time luring an oversized, bandy-legged foe out of its hollow.

"No. Collecting them."

"Is that what all the counting was about?" At one point, Jesús and Callie had been counting out loud and screaming—the process repeating itself multiple times.

The girl shook her head. "No we were seeing who could guess how many seconds it'd take for it to come out after the bug dropped."

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Can I go now?" her daughter asked, clearly impatient.

"Go. But no more digging, and tell your brother," Stef instructed. "And you are washing those feet again before bed—hey, I expect a response when I'm talking to you!" she yelled after Callie as she took off without a word.

"Can you believe those two? Honestly, Lena," she said, scandalized by what they had learned.

Lena patted her wife on the arm. "Told you. She is going to be just fine. _You_ , on the other hand, have a busy night ahead of you," she teased, smirking. Stef often joked that she was only good for killing large spiders in the home now that the kids were older. And it was true; as soon as one would appear in the house, everyone would be after her to kill it.

"Say that again?"

"She and Jesus left the back door open."


	48. Turning Over a New Leaf

**Author Note:**

Another fun chapter to write. Ups and downs and growing (so much growing!) in between. Thanks to **theypreferthetermpeople** for quality control and finessing ideas around Lena's role :)

Someone asked about a spin-off in the last update. I won't be attempting another long fic again, but there are a few short stories set in the IUW world that are currently in the works as well as a couple requests I've begun to delve into. I won't stop writing anytime soon.

As always, thanks for the support and happy reading. ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 46** : Turning Over a New Leaf

The next month saw the family settle into a new routine, with some changes to their lives more imposed than others. Callie had gotten off lightly for her troubles at school, giving them all peace of mind. Attendance reports now had to be submitted weekly to Juvenile Justice and meetings with her Probation Officer were bi-weekly, rather than monthly, occurrences. Stef could attend as long as she didn't interfere and she intended to go to every single one to show Callie that her family was behind her.

There was another reason for her presence, however, and that was to make a point to the Juvenile Parole Board. Because reliable support was linked to a decreased likelihood of recidivism, she hoped Callie's PO could eventually be convinced to put forth a recommendation that the length of sentence be reduced. With this goal in mind, Stef was keeping close tabs on how her daughter interacted with him.

But in spite of her involvement, she and Lena remained apprehensive about how the frequent meetings were affecting Callie. As each appointment drew closer, Callie would become noticeably more worried and fluctuate between completely withdrawing and becoming exceedingly clingy. Afterwards, she seemed to revert to old ways—sullen, hardened, and inaccessible—perhaps regressing because those experiences shook her confidence about being able to stay out of juvie; it was her way of preparing to go back. Then, after a couple of days, she would return—meek, anxious for their approval, and scared to be separated from them.

The shift in Callie's sense of security had been remarkable. As her trust in their love and commitment to her and Jude developed, anxiety gradually receded into the shadows, giving their relationship room to evolve. She happily participated in discussions of Adoption Day plans and spent more time around the rest of the family. Most nights, she helped Lena cook dinner. That one-on-one time was a surefire way to get her to open up about her day and she was always filled with pride about the meal she'd helped prepare when they all sat down. She played as a kid should, tearing around the yard with Jesus and Jude, making up games and climbing trees, resulting in scrapes and bumped heads on more than one occasion. She talked more, initiating conversation with increasing frequency and surprising them with the new ways she would let them in.

Sure, Callie would act up and there were still many times she and Stef were at each other's throats. However, she seemed more comfortable, as though she finally grasped the safety of knowing she had their unconditional love. She challenged them relentlessly, which they welcomed because they didn't want her to just come to heel. She would put up a fight whenever she earned a consequence before acceptance set in, then move on once reassured they were okay before the entire cycle repeated itself. Like most teenagers, she thrived within their limits despite complaints about not being allowed to do anything

But most importantly, she was reacquainting herself with her life before foster care and what her old family had looked like. Doing so appeared to help put a face on what exactly had been lost, and Callie talked about it as if finally allowing herself to wade into her grief.

One thing that seemed to have encouraged her in opening up was the return of her and Jude's possessions. Stef and Lena made sure to go slowly and split things up to avoid having it become too overwhelming. Freshly debugged stuffed animals were offered, but not pushed. Board games joined the shelf that housed other family favourites, as did books and family photos. Everything had its own place so they would be accessible. Things that held sentimental value like mementos from when they were born, or documentation like birth certificates, health and school records, and Donald's information at the men's correctional facility were tucked away with important paperwork belonging to the rest of their children: on a top shelf in an upstairs closet away from prying fingers. The staggered process, which Dr. Wiseman had recommended as a way to help Callie and Jude bridge their previous life with the one they had today, had unfolded exactly how the clinician had predicted it would. Three other children in the house had posed a challenge of sorts to ensuring the siblings had the option of going through their things alone. It wasn't that Jesus, Mariana, and Brandon were nosy or trying to be bothersome; as children, they were simply curious about the influx of new books and toys and eager to give support in the way they knew how. Eventually, the den was designated a quiet space Callie and Jude could go to if they wanted privacy to look at their things. For a while, both of them avoided the room altogether. But some days later, even though Callie had declared she was too old for CandyLand, they found her and Jude—bellies pressed to the carpet—giggling softly over the game, learning how to be carefree with each other again all over again.

* * *

"Whoa…" Callie murmured at the photo of herself as a baby. She still couldn't believe Bill had saved everything and they had a family that was okay with them keeping it all.

"Can I see?" Jude asked. This had quickly become his favourite part of their routine. Each day, he and Callie joined the Moms in the family room. On school days, it was after dinner and before bedtime snack; on weekends, like today, it was always after breakfast. Stef and Lena would bring in a stack of photos and they'd sit on the floor around the ottoman and sort through them together. "That's you," he said when it made it over to him and Stef.

"Oh, kiddo. Look at you!" Stef gushed as she looked over the boy's shoulder. "You were such a little peanut." Callie looked no more than three months old; she was sitting in her bucket seat, Colleen and Donald crouched beside her beaming at the camera.

"And look at that hair," Lena chimed in. As an infant, Callie had a full head of hair that was dark, a blue-black. Never would she have expected it to lighten and turn brown.

Stef nodded. "You practically have a combover."

"Where are you and Mom and Dad?" Jude asked. It wasn't the hospital but it didn't look like home, either; the room was empty save for a futon in the background: there was no rug, coffee table, or dining table.

"Mmm. Old apartment. We moved into a bigger place when Mama got preggo with you, like right before you were born," Callie explained, smiling. She definitely remembered looking at some of these baby photos before with her Mom. This one had a story she recalled her Mom telling her about—it'd been taken by friends after they'd gotten home from an evening out. Her Mom and Dad had been proud because she had slept through dinner and drinks.

"Where's their stuff?"

"We didn't have any yet," Callie said, getting slightly defensive. "They had to buy baby things first. But that's okay." She knew her parents were tight some months and they had to save little by little until they had enough to buy the next thing they needed. It wasn't like at Stef and Lena's, where they could buy stuff they needed without having to wait.

"Of course it's okay. You know, I ate on my bed while I was still doing my police training," Stef shared. Callie was nearing the age where she was more sensitive about what others thought of her family and she wanted to send a message that there was nothing to be ashamed of. From the photos, it was obvious that despite being poor, Colleen and Donald had succeeded in building a happy childhood for their kids. Callie spoke of her memories with fondness and Jude seemed excited to learn about things he'd been too young to remember. That was all that mattered.

She wrapped her arms around Jude as he plunked himself down on her lap after grabbing another photo from the stack. She had a soft spot for her youngest; at eight-years-old, he enjoyed physical proximity and was motivated to spend time with them without them asking. It wouldn't be long before he would be off doing his own thing with his peers and siblings, rather than his parents. So for now, she cherished this time. Even though bony knees and elbows dug painfully into her, keeping sleep elusive the nights she ended up in his bed. Even though he smelled like fruit left out in the sun no matter how on the ball they were about getting him into the bath.

"What are you doing? Was I not born yet still?" Jude demanded, waving the print at his sister. Callie was sitting on a lawnmower. He really _had_ missed out on all the fun.

"Oh my _GOSH_ , _what_ **are** you doing?!" Lena exclaimed as she caught glimpse of the Polaroid, causing her wife to clamour for a look before Callie grabbed it.

Their daughter began to giggle. "First of all, Mama, it's not plugged in!"

"I would certainly hope not!" Stef replied in horror.

"Second of all, that's you," she said as she flicked it back to her brother. Her aim sucked and Stef caught it as it overshot the ottoman and flew to the floor. "My hair was dark but yours was really light when you were a baby."

"What?" the boy screeched, nearly ripping the print out of his Mom's hands.

"Hey hey hey. Watch those elbows, mister," Stef said disapprovingly as they jutted into her thighs when Jude pushed himself up. "Sit nicely. And we don't grab."

"Sorry," he mumbled, sheepish. "Can you lemme see, please?" he asked sweetly.

The cop ruffled his hair. "Yes. Thank you for using your manners. Let's look at it together." His excitement made her well up. What really pulled on her heartstrings was the recognition that in five years, neither Callie nor Jude had had the opportunity to have these conversations about their biological parents and what had happened to them. Theirs was the first safe place they could honour that important piece of their lives.

"That's our home at the bigger apartment," Callie explained. That was the really the only home she remembered; the last one that had felt like home before this one, anyway. "Remember the big lawn out front?" she reminded, unsurprised when Jude looked lost. "Dad's work was kinda slow and we lived on this block where there were tons and tons of apartments. So he came home one day with this lawnmower he bought off this guy so he could cut grass for easy cash. He brought it inside to fix it up, because he wasn't allowed to outside, and Mom was so mad when grease got on the floor and she slipped! But she forgave him later that week when he brought home five bills." Her Dad was never afraid or too stuck up to hustle. "He let me go with him sometimes to rake the clippings. But anyway, you were like really into cars and so Dad would put you on top and push it around so you could 'drive it,'" she said, using air quotes.

"Five bills?" Lena asked, confused. She rolled her eyes at her daughter's tone, which suggested she should know better.

"Five _hundred_ _dollars_ , Mama."

Stef scrutinized the cheerful photo depicting father and son. Jude was planted square on top of the motor, Michelin legs hanging over the sides and arms spread wide so he could grip the handles. A wide, gummy smile was on his face. Donald crouched beside him, one arm supporting the child's back, grinning at the camera. Now she understood where her daughter's creative streak came from. She eyed Callie, checking to see how she was doing. As much as Callie denied being close with her Dad, the photos told an opposite story of the relationship they had once had. It'd been her resentment at him for killing their mother that had driven them apart, the rift deepened by lack of visitation. Callie had obviously been very close with Colleen, which made sense because she'd been their primary caregiver. Thus far, their closeness had buffered them against ill feelings over her choice to drink heavily and get into the car with Donald.. She assumed Callie was probably conflicted, too, because she would shut down further the more photos of her and her dad emerged. One of Callie sitting on his lap, teaspoon in hand fishing for the floating tea bag. _A pretend sea monster,_ she'd explained. Another where she stood by him holding plywood steady as he cut it on the table saw, an oversized tool belt hanging around her waist.

"Look. Here's another one of you, Jude." Stef directed his attention to a grainy, overexposed capture of him standing in front of a potty with one hand in his mouth. The photo had been taken in the hallway.

Jude slapped his palm over his face at the sight of him buck naked. " _Eww_! I don't have any clothes on!" He flipped it around so Callie could see, giggling when she laughed.

"You were so gross!" Callie said. This was from when their Mom had been trying to potty train Jude, using all sorts of incentives to get him to acknowledge its existence. "Mama put Froot Loops in that thing and told you to aim at them to make rainbows but you didn't get it. You picked them out and ate them every single time without going."

Grossed out by the thought of Jude eating snack food retrieved from a potty, Stef felt her stomach roll. But although she shared a mutual expression of queasiness with her wife, she had to hand it to Colleen. Evidently, Donald wasn't the only creative one in the family. "Oh, buddy...that's not supposed to be the way it works."

Jude grinned. "I was a baby, I didn't know better!" he defended.

"Obviously not but Mama did say you knew about the important things in life though, and that you knew what you wanted," his sister said. He'd been three. This was right before Mom had died and everything had changed.

"You don't look like you could have been more than three," Lena approximated before turning it over to see if she was close. The reason for Callie's silence suddenly clicking, she simply placed the photo back onto the pile, wanting to focus on being present for her child so Callie could sit with her feelings. "That was probably right around the time you two moved," she remarked quietly as she rubbed Callie's back.

"Yup." Uncomfortable with being the center of attention, the girl nodded towards the photo. "Maybe that was the universe telling us it was the start of a _crappy_ situation."

Stef let out a dry laugh. That was another thing they had learned about Callie; often times, dry humour followed discomfort. "Maybe, sweetheart."

No one said anything for awhile. Even Jude seemed to sense his sister's need for space and he fidgeted in Stef's lap, waiting as patiently as he could.

Finally, Callie shuffled over to the ottoman on her knees to unearth a shot of a regular occurrence in their home. She showed it to Lena. "Mama cut our hair. I always moved," she admitted.

Lena chuckled at the younger version of her daughter sporting a bowl cut with crooked bangs that were a tad too long. Callie was smiling wide, showing off her gap teeth. She was grateful for this window into the children's past but the reminder of all she and Stef had missed out on also made her wistful.

"What's going on here?" Lena asked, tapping at the image of a plate that sat in front of Callie. It looked like there was a good story there.

The girl laughed. "Huh? Oh. That was Mom's best dinner." She rotated it to show Stef and Jude the creamy-looking pile. What appeared to be brown sauce was at the peak, dribbling down the side in lumps.

"Mashed potato volcanoes with sweet refried beans for rocks and lava!" Jude shouted. He wasn't sure if he remembered that because of Mom or because it was something Callie had told him about. Either way, it sounded delicious. "That's the CRATER!" he said, pointing to the very top.

Lena forced herself to school her reaction. She had not grown up with food like that. "And what are those?" she asked in a tone she hoped was more curious than judgmental as she pointed to the reddish-brown floppy strips next to the volcano.

"That's the hotdog campfire, Mama!" Callie said excitedly. The sliced up dog with special sauce was her favourite part. "The fire is Cheez Whiz and ketchup."

"A hotdog campfire with Cheez Whiz and ketchup fire," Lena repeated neutrally while freaking out inside. "Oh my. That is so...clever." She would have to make that for them one day. "Isn't it dangerous to camp near an active volcano?" she thought aloud before Stef interrupted.

"Now _that_ is something I can cook!" Stef said enthusiastically, knowing Lena had very particular tastes in food and beliefs of what constituted real food that made it hard for her to relate to what Callie and Jude were used to eating. "Oh, there's some more stuck to this one," she said as she carefully peeled the photos apart from the first. She went slow, wincing every time the paper took the glossy ink with it. Holding it in Jude's lap, she looked over his shoulders so they could look at it together.

"That's _ME_! That's me and Mama!" he shrieked, immediately recognizing himself.

Colleen had him propped up by the underarms and standing on the table, facing the camera. Beside them Callie was flashing a grin through a mouthful of corn flakes. Cereal and milk splotches were everywhere and she looked quite proud of the amount of food all over the table.

Chuckling, Stef placed a kiss on his hair. "That is you and your Mama, all right. You two sure are mighty pleased with yourselves there." She flipped it over to check the date stamp. "You were just over six-months-old here. Callie, you would've been five."

"Oh my gosh, the two of you were so tiny!" Lena remarked when her and Callie's turn came to look. She held the print right up next to her daughter's face. "You look the same. A bug in the making." The button nose, mousey hair, and big brown eyes were unmistakably Callie's. She scanned the footstool, which had become a collage, to locate the prints that appeared to have been taken around the same time. One was of Jude in his highchair fisting a spoon into his mouth, captured mid-gag as Callie looked on, horrified. Another was of Callie feeding him. " _There_ …"

Callie watched Lena as she grouped them together. Their foster moms were trying to keep this stuff organized by year; Lena eventually wanted to put them in albums. "Can I see again?"

"Of course, sweetheart." She handed them over. "I'm sure it made your Mom's heart sing that you wanted to help take care of your baby brother," she commented. She could see her daughter getting worked up as Callie went quiet and a flush spread across her cheeks, usually signs that things were deteriorating.

"Yeah. It was like my favourite thing to do." The girl sighed as memories flooded back. "Mom didn't have enough milk to keep Jude full so the health clinic nurse said it was okay to give cereal. Pablum," she said proudly as she recounted the story for them.

"How come baby food is called pablum?" Jude asked curiously.

"Not sure, bubba," Stef replied, wondering if the distraction had been helpful in diffusing some of Callie's upset. "That's just what baby cereal is called."

"It comes from the Latin root word for foodstuff," Lena clarified. "Pabulum."

"Oh…" Not an interesting an answer as he'd hoped it would be, Jude turned to his sister. "Did I like it?"

"Mm, I think so. You couldn't eat very well then. But the nights got quieter." Callie paused, relishing in the memories. It'd been hard to have a sibling come along when she had had her parents to herself for so long. Jude had taken up so much of her Mom's time and energy…it was only when he'd go to bed that they would get time together. Just them, and it was special because it was like before. Some days it felt like the evening would never come but her Mom would always come through, reading a chapter from a book or singing her to sleep.

Callie swallowed, trying to get rid herself of the tightness in her throat. _Damn_. She really did miss her. She'd give anything to have her back, even if it meant never meeting Stef and Lena. It wasn't the same.

"Where are you off to, love?" Stef asked, giving her wife a concerned look as Callie scrambled up off the floor in a hurry. She had known it was coming—that her daughter was approaching the end of her patience—but hadn't expected her interest to have disappeared all of a sudden like that.

Lena reached out for Callie, who flinched her arm away a little more roughly than she needed to, given that she had barely touched her.

"To my room. I gotta get ready for my PO meeting," the girl replied as she made her exit.

Stef opened her mouth to say something; the meeting was still a few hours away and the office was a short drive away. She stopped herself, deciding things would be better off if she didn't challenge her. Callie was shutting the door on her emotions because it was too much to deal with; they needed to grant her the space to do that. "Okay. Alright," she conceded as she and Lena got up to follow. "Your outfit is laid out on your bed. It's been ironed so please be careful," she said as neutrally as she could manage as she saw Callie's face darken.

Realizing Moms had came with her to the landing, the girl quickly wiped her eyes. _Why'd they have to be on her for every little thing?_

"Why can't I just wear my normal clothes?" she challenged, sulking over not being able to choose her clothes.

"Because we want you to look extra nice, just like you do every time you meet with your PO," Stef said honestly.

Her wife's approach was a bit softer. "Honey, you look absolutely sweet in it," Lena tried to placate without giving her room to complain.

Callie rolled her eyes and scowled. "The pants are itchy and I hate those meat curtains on the top," she said rudely, smirking when both women's mouths dropped open.

Lena sighed. Callie had brought up several times about how uncomfortable she found the dress pants but she had had them altered and knew they fit fine. Comparing the frills on the front of the blouse to labia was one she hadn't heard before, though. "Are you going to take a shower so you don't need to do it tonight?" Lena tried redirecting.

"Um, sure..." Callie mumbled. To be honest, she hadn't planned to. She'd just wanted to be alone. But she could always run the water and sit on the floor.

"Okay. Go up and get started. I'll be up shortly to give you a hand."

Tears threatened to spill over her interrupted plans to have time by herself. " _Seriously_? I said I don't need help!" she said indignantly, putting her hands on her hips. Lena hadn't even given her a choice. " ** _Mama_**!" Ever since she'd gotten sick, they were punishing her for it—and she was so over it.

"Sweetheart, I'm only trying to keep you healthy—" Lena soothed, cupping the girl's cheeks in her palms. She felt for her child but after a recent urinary tract turned kidney infection that had sent her to Children's, she was more concerned with preventing a repeat than with her feelings. Callie was still on antibiotics for it.

"UGH. I _know_ how to take care of myself!" Callie argued, getting increasingly worked up as she pulled away from Lena for the second time. "I'm _thirteen_!" She could do it without them hovering in her personal space and reminding her how to wash her body. "You guys are there like every day. Should I be worried?" she sassed. She bit her lip, regretting the words she'd chosen when she understood how it'd come out.

"Careful with that attitude, sweetheart." Stef's voice was deadly quiet, reminding her daughter she was on thin ice.

But Callie could not help but run her mouth. "Whatever. It's...it's inappropriate." She knew she was pushing her luck but wasn't at all happy with Lena right now.

Butterflies in her stomach took flight when Stef came and stood before her, a gesture she knew meant she had gone too far. Feeling the woman's hand on her shoulder, she let out a grumble of annoyance before looking up.

"It's like every day, Mom," she ground out, trying hard not to huff in frustration. Her chest was still a knot of anger.

Stef shook her head in disappointment. "I know it must feel that way to you but it is not every day, and the only thing that's inappropriate is you insinuating there's more going on to Mama and I helping you. You know very well that is not true, and that is definitely not okay, Callie," she reprimanded. Knowing it was uncomfortable for her and worried about the possibility of their intentions being misconstrued, she and Lena always made sure to explain each step and be as minimally intrusive as they could. They encouraged her to shower in the ensuite on days they anticipated she might need more help and kept the door open, but ultimately it was up to Callie and some days she chose to use the kids' bathroom while they waited in the hallway. During those times, the door would be closed. "Words like that are _not_ okay," she said firmly for emphasis.

Thoroughly chastened and guilty for her accusation, the girl nodded.

"Is that how we talk to Mama? Or anyone else for that matter?"

Lena suppressed a smile as their daughter nearly glued her chin to her chest at being scolded. Callie was always so daring and obstinate until Stef put her in her place.

"No."

"Apologize. Right now," the cop said sternly. "Unless you don't want to go out after your meeting…" she warned, cocking an eyebrow at the girl when it looked like she was still deliberating whether or not to do what she'd been asked.

Callie's eyes widened. She did want to go out after and she knew Stef wasn't joking when she said it would be taken away. "Sorryyyyy..." she said, slumping her shoulders as she turned to Lena. Hearing her foster mom clear her throat, she repeated her apology in a more acceptable tone. "Sorry, Mama."

" _For_?" Stef prompted. She was not happy with the mouthing off. "Eye contact when you're apologizing please."

"Uhm. Sorry...thatIdon'tneedhelp," Callie said quickly before trying to cut around Lena so she could bolt up the stairs.

For a second time that morning, Lena stopped her. She would let that non-apology slide, but afraid of Callie's sour mood impacting her meeting with her PO, wanted to remind her of the post-meeting incentive they were trying out with her. "Thank you, honey. I appreciate your apology. Wait, not so fast. Talk to me for a second. Is the plan still for you and Mom to stop for groceries after and to try to have a coffee date?" she said, hoping it would cheer her up at the same time. These meetings had been incredibly stressful for all of them, especially Callie.

The frown on her daughter's face immediately disappeared. "Mhm! I'm going to help pick out dinner!" she told her, brightening. "And she said, maybe we could go for a mocha. But only if I tried at the meeting," she added, quieter and with less confidence this time.

"I _know_ you can do it, Cal. Just remember that." Lena smiled encouragingly. No doubt, Callie had the best of intentions—it was just the follow through that was the real challenge.

* * *

"Are we still gonna go shopping?" Callie asked a livid Stef as they drove past the strip mall.

Stef bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. "Mm, I'm afraid not, Cal. I'm going to take you home then go out after." She gripped the steering wheel, feeling her irritation peak as Callie slid down in her seat. Obviously, nothing they had discussed had been absorbed. Her child wanted the incentive but nothing to do with the work that went into earning it.

She was trying to be understanding, knowing how stressful it was on Callie to be on probation, robbed of a typical childhood. She had her own grievances about her daughter being on such a lengthy period of monitoring and having a middle-aged male as a PO who was clueless about how to talk to her, and was someone Callie was obviously uncertain of. But since there couldn't be anything done about it, her role was to get her daughter through unscathed.

"We always go out to the store after, though," Callie pointed out. The opportunity to focus on something mindless after seeing her PO was what got her through the meetings in the first place.

" _Callie_ …" Stef sighed in exasperation. Now her daughter was just pushing her buttons. Callie's behaviour during the meeting had been nothing short of reprehensible and she was appalled that she would even dare to ask about a reward.

"I answered all of his questions like I was supposed to! I did what you said," Callie defended, tone bordering on a whine as the lump in her throat grew. She had a suspicion why Stef was bringing her straight home: because she didn't want to hang out with her.

"I _know_ you answered his questions, I heard you," Stef said curtly. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her sarcasm at bay and refraining from reaming out her kid. "It's about _how_ you answered them. I know you know that the way you went about answering the questions was not acceptable. At all." Her daughter had been rude, defiant, and uncooperative with her PO—most of their interaction was spent with him trying to get through his standard interview and Callie glaring at him with her arms crossed. Their daughter, who nowadays usually had quite a lot to say to them, had been filled with _'I dunnos'_ and _'nopes,'_ and _'what's it to yous?'_

Without her offering much substance, she hadn't taken up the allotted hour-long time slot. They'd made it fifteen minutes before her PO dismissed it as a lost cause. Stef had been mortified, in the way all parents were when their children acted as the worst possible versions of themselves, usually at the most inopportune of moments.

Callie curled up her legs onto the seat and looked out the window. To be honest, she'd forgotten Stef had been in the room until she turned around to leave his office when dismissed. It was then she realized that she was probably in deep shit with her foster mom.

"We always go after," she mumbled petulantly, angry that Stef had gone back on her word. She wasn't sure what she was trying to do here; she knew there was no way the cop would change her mind.

"Did you not hear anything I just said?" the woman snapped. Her patience at this point was shot. "I am not taking you anywhere right now. The deal was that you needed to try for us to go out together. What you did in there? _Not_. _Trying_." It hurt her heart to take away something Callie had been looking forward to, but maybe this would teach her to take things more seriously next time.

"I'm disappointed in you, Cal." Stef blew out a breath as the girl simply stared out the window, frustrating her with her silence.

"You're mean," Callie eventually said with a whisper. She chewed her bottom lip at the admonishment, not wanting to cry. Stef was picking on her for every little thing today. Today's meeting with her PO was no different than how they usually went. Plus, that hadn't been their rule, anyway. Trying was supposed to get her a coffee date. Going shopping didn't have conditions. Not trying in her meeting shouldn't have disrupted their routine of doing groceries together.

She'd disappointed her mom enough that the woman didn't want anything to do with her for the rest of the afternoon. Perseverating on this thought as the streets became more familiar as they approached home, she became more and more aggravated. By the time they were pulling into the driveway, all she wanted to do was to get away from Stef and hide in her room. Knowing it would irritate the cop, she unclicked her seatbelt and hopped out to bolt into the house without waiting for the car to stop. She stormed in the front door, which had been left unlocked, and had just finished locking the deadbolt to keep Stef out when Lena came downstairs.

"Back so soon?" Lena had just gotten Jude started on homework upstairs after cleaning up from breakfast and was looking forward to some quiet time with the paper when she had heard the door slam. "Does Mom need help with the groceries?" she questioned, surprised to see her daughter on the verge of crying.

"We didn't get to go, okay?" Callie exploded as the dam finally burst, giving way to angry tears that rolled down her face.

"Oooh, baby girl. I'm sorry," Lena soothed as she rushed over, arms open and ready to give the girl a hug. She knew Callie was disappointed, given how much she looked forward to accompanying them on errands, but also understood the meeting probably hadn't gone as well as she and her wife had hoped if the promise of going out had been rescinded. "Come here…"

Over the last month, she had noticed a significant shift in her relationship with Callie. Now, whenever Callie was in trouble with Stef, she would approach her as if seeking comfort and protection. She never tried to split them, but instead would articulate her frustrations with the cop and recount what had lead up to their disagreement. It had actually been a relief for both of them when this started happening because it meant it wasn't all on Stef to relay the details before they spoke with her.

The cop came in a few minutes later, even more frustrated by the delay in having to contend with being unexpectedly locked out. "How many times have I told you? You are _not_ to undo your seatbelt until we are parked. And you are certainly _NOT_ to jump out while the car is moving!" She pointed to the door, exasperated by all the button pushing Callie had done today. "As for this, I'm going to pretend that you did not just lock me out, because that is plain disrespectful and uncalled for."

Not interested in being lectured anymore, Callie scrambled out of Lena's arms and stalked off towards the landing.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, young lady."

Callie froze, her feet wanting to move but her head telling her she needed to listen because her mom was already so mad at her. Conflicted, she took another step forward before withdrawing her foot. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Stef's fingers snap loudly.

"Right here. Now," the cop ordered. She pointed to the floor in front of her, even though her heart ached to see Callie startle in fear of the sound—another residual effect of these meetings.

Callie rolled her eyes before turning around and reluctantly moving closer to her mom even though she didn't want to. Nervous feet shuffled in place as Stef cupped her cheeks in her palms, tilting her head to force her to look up at her. "I have had enough of this behaviour," she said firmly, her patience fraying along with her nerves. Her exasperation softened at seeing fresh tears spill. "Callie. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You have to be on my side. Not his! He—he's not a nice person!" Callie defended tearfully. Her PO used to repeatedly tell her that it would just be a matter of time before she ended up back in juvie and that he'd be the one to send her back. That he didn't think it'd take too long because she was _incorrigible_. She was too cocky and her future, according to him, was bleak. He was the enemy and Stef was basically telling her to suck up to him.

Stef scoffed loudly. "I am not taking his side, but you weren't even trying in there, kiddo!" She was at a loss as to how to explain to Callie that she was in a situation where she had to be strategic to get what she wanted. That there was a…culture

"Cal! You know how it is. It is not the PO's job to be nice to you. He will push you and say things you don't like to try to get a reaction out of you, and to see what you're doing to better yourself. Your job is to say yes sir and to ask what else you can be doing and how quickly. To participate and show you are concerned about this situation you are in. Instead, you were being rude. Incredibly rude!" Callie knew how to play the game; she'd been incarcerated before. "Have you forgotten what juvie was like? Huh?"

"It doesn't matter! He's gonna think what he always thinks 'cause he's already made up his mind about me!" Callie retorted, fists at her sides.

"Then I want to see you work twice as hard to give him reasons to change his mind about you! We have talked about this over and over again, Callie. Why are you continuing to argue over this? Why do you continue to act up in your meetings? What is causing you to make this more of a struggle than it has to be?" she demanded. A frown formed at her daughter's silence.

" ** _Because_**. He's **_stupid_**!" Callie exploded, enunciating out of sheer annoyance.

If it was possible to shake the attitude right out of someone, Stef would've tried. "I am not going to stand here and get into it with you about whether or not your PO is stupid. That is irrelevant—right now this is about you and you alone," she scolded, raising her voice. "This guy holds all the power to change things in your situation, Callie. You need to keep him happy to get what you want."

Callie crossed her arms in defiance. That was the last thing she was interested in doing; sure, she wanted to get through her probation, but with her dignity intact. She wasn't going to suck up to him. That her foster mom would suggest that was insulting.

"NO. I won't! Because I _don't_ ** _CARE_**!" Shouting morphed easily into an insolent scream.

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" Stef snapped, beyond frustrated at this point. She really didn't understand her daughter. _Did she want to go back?_

Callie wiped her eyes, hating that fights with her moms never failed to make her cry. "Nothing's wrong with me!" she retorted, slightly hurt by the question. "Why are you so worried about my meetings? It's none of your business." That was how they usually went and she really didn't get what the big deal was. At first, when she had learned she had more visits and that Stef would be going with her, she had been happy she wouldn't have to do it alone. But she hadn't anticipated getting picked on for every little thing. If that was how Stef was going to behave, then she didn't want her there. "If that's how you're going to act towards me after each meeting then you're not allowed to come anymore! If you hadn't started showing up then you wouldn't even know how it is!"

Stef had to laugh at that one. "Unfortunately, my coming in with you is not your decision to make." Callie's reasoning was precisely _why_ she needed to be there. "Look, honey. You don't just flout the rules because Mama and I are not there. We are raising you to be better than that. You act right regardless of where you are or who you might be with because it's the right thing to do. That's final."

"That's not fair! I didn't ask you to!" Callie argued.

"Well it's a good thing we don't wait for our children to give us permission to do what's right," the woman said snarkily, not missing a beat. It was about time she set this kid straight. "Hey! This conversation is not over!" she said as Callie started to walk away again.

The girl smirked. It _was_ over—because she wasn't gonna just stand around and listen to this crap.

"Do not even think about taking another step," Stef warned.

Callie purposely did just that before whipping around. "Well I _am_! 'Cause I'm gonna take these _FUCKING_ meat curtains off me before anyone else decides to screw me today," Callie snapped as she grabbed the frills on her blouse and held them open, knowing the vulgar language would bug her mom to no end. She hated those things. They flapped around and made her arms itch whenever they brushed up against them.

Lena had to work to keep her composure intact, having learned the best thing to do was to pay no attention to her daughter. At thirteen, she would do anything she could think of for shock value. But unfortunately, most of what she came up with never failed to completely scandalize Stef.

"That is it. That is _IT_! I am this close to washing your mouth out with soap, young lady!" Stef said, her voice rising along with her blood pressure at the words that left her sweet child's mouth.

Callie scrutinized her foster mom, trying to determine if she was bluffing. "Go ahead!" she challenged when she decided Stef was full of crap. "I'll just **_spit_** it out!" she yelled.

Afraid of what other empty threats her wife might come up with if Callie kept being lippy to push her buttons, Lena tapped their daughter on the arm. "That's quite enough. You are walking a thin line and need to stop," she said firmly. "No one is getting their mouth washed out with soap," she added in case any clarification was needed, glaring at Stef before turning back to Callie. "You may go upstairs to calm down and we will have a talk after."

"Fine!" Callie yelled as she ran upstairs. She'd pay for it later but right now she couldn't stand to be around either of them. No matter how wrong Stef was, Lena always took her side.

Stef winced as a door slammed. Surely, this child was bent on giving her a coronary. "That attitude is awful Lena, just awful, and we are going to nip it in the bud."

"By washing her mouth out with soap? Really, Stef?" Lena asked, levelling her wife with an unimpressed look.

"Can I?"

" _No_! Of course you can't! Have you lost your mind?"

"Well, I could _tryyy_ ," Stef pointed out, knowing she probably shouldn't have issued a threat she had no intention of carrying out. "She did say she would just spit it out." At least Callie was honest.

Lena shook her head. "You two." Stef and Callie were both hotheaded; their attempts at communication while frustrated was akin to pouring gasoline over a smouldering fire.

"What? How are you mad at me, too?" she asked Lena impatiently when she realized she wasn't going to get any sympathy from her, either.

"She really wanted to go out with you after the meeting, babe. That's probably why she was so upset," she said gently.

Stef stared open-mouthed, incredulous at the suggestion. "Lena, did you really think I was going to take her after how she behaved? Maybe she will put in some more effort into being respectful next time."

Lena smiled sadly at Stef. "Perhaps. But you didn't tell her that, did you? You only established that you were willing to let her have a coffee provided she tried at her meeting. Groceries weren't up for bargaining, so you changed the rules on her after you two left." She wasn't trying to criticize, only trying to explain why she thought Callie had been so upset. "Have you thought about it being the only thing Callie might have been looking forward to today? Spending time with you?"

"Well, no," Stef admitted slowly, wracking her brain on the conversation she and Callie had had in the car en route home. "But she knows exactly why I didn't take her out. We talked about it."

"Does she?" Lena asked, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Or does she think you only want to hang out with her when she's doing what you want her to do?"

"Of course not," Stef refuted before trailing off. Lena was right, of course; it was more than likely that Callie had come to a conclusion like that. Grudgingly, she accepted her wallet and car keys from her wife, getting the message she was being sent away.

"I'll go talk to her," Lena reassured. She gave her wife a quick kiss. "As for you, maybe doing the shopping will give you some time to think about how you're going to explain things to her."

* * *

By the time dinnertime came and went, Stef was desperate to reconcile with Callie. She had approached her after she had returned home, but the girl hadn't been keen to engage and instead steered clear of her.

Stef decided to try just once more before bed, knowing it was best not to push if her daughter wasn't interested in talking. But she really hoped that wasn't the case because she missed Callie. Her heart sank as she climbed the stairs and she saw that all the lights were out on the second level.

"Cal? You still up, Bug?" the woman said quietly as she peered inside the girl's room. "Where are you?" she asked, noticing the empty bed.

"Here, Mom," she heard her daughter say. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she made out Callie's form, straddling the open window, iPhone in hand. It'd been returned a week ago; needless to say, she'd been thrilled.

"What are you doing?" the cop managed, keeping her voice neutral so as to not raise Callie's ire when her daughter craned her head further out the window, stabilizing herself with one hand while the other pointed the phone up to the sky. "Honey, you're really making me nervous," she admitted, grateful for the pitch black of the room to mask the hand that'd flown to her heart.

"Looking at Ursa…Major..." The reply came as Callie tried to make it out on the screen. "Well, the bear head, anyway." Most of the constellation was obscured by the side of the house. Finding Stef beside her and waiting open-palmed, she took the hand expecting hers and hopped down before handing the phone to her foster mom. The stargazer app that automatically mapped out and identified constellations was still open.

"Oh, _wow._ This is pretty neat. Nice find!" Stef said when she panned the camera out the window and it picked up Orion and Sirius. "There's the hunter and his dog."

Ever since Callie's goal of backyard camping had come up during the first family session, it'd been all their daughter could think of, apparently. She had tried not to get her hopes up but once she and Lena had started making plans, Callie's excitement had grown.

Callie shrugged. "Can't see it all," she said, shoulders sagging in discouragement.

"Should we go test it out in the yard?"

The girl jumped up, unable to hide her eagerness. "Really? We can do that?" Still having to ask Stef and Lena whenever she wanted to go outside, she had stopped altogether. As promised, she was always allowed, but she'd have to wait for them to finish up whatever they were doing and by then, she would usually find something else to do.

"Of course. Why not?" Flicking on the light, she rummaged through Callie's drawers to find a long sleeved shirt that looked clean. "Here. It'll protect you from mosquitos." She crumpled it into a ball and threw it at Callie's head, laughing as the girl struggled to wiggle into them and fought with the hem so it'd stop riding up.

"What, Mom?"

Stef cleared her throat, surprised by the tears pricking her eyes as she took in the fact that the cuffs on her daughter's pyjama pants were at least two inches too short. The material was so stretched at her calves that the smiley face print was distorted.

"You're growing, baby girl," she replied, feeling emotional that Callie was finally healthy enough to approach average size for a kid her age.

Without a cloud in the sky, it was the perfect night for constellations. Callie marvelled as they found ones she hadn't been able to see from her window, and Stef found peace in her daughter's joy at doing something she hadn't had the chance to before. Having deemed the app good enough for one that was free and having exhausted all the star patterns visible that night, she finally had the courage to broach the conversation that had been weighing on her all day.

"Come, hop up," she said, patting her thigh.

"I'm too big," Callie grumbled, although she started to take her new mom up on the offer.

"Hush. You are not," Stef lied, groaning as she took on her teenager's full weight, gangly limbs and all. Callie was definitely a few pounds heavier than when she'd last lifted her. Perhaps getting sick and the resulting scrutiny from doctors and family alike, had been good for her.

"How is your body feeling these days, love? Be honest with me." She and Lena had learned just how much active encouragement their daughter still required to communicate with them when she was unwell—something they'd thought was behind them since it hadn't been the first time Callie had been sick while living with them.

Oh, how wrong they had been. Callie hadn't been forthcoming with them about her symptoms, and by the time they learned the full extent of what had been going on—fever raging and appetite wiped—she no longer had the stamina to hide how she felt any longer. Even though it had quickly became clear that it was more than a cold, it was the beginning of Callie becoming more ill than they had ever seen.

"You need to tell us if something hurts, okay?"

Callie let herself melt into her foster mother, happy for the closeness. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know I was getting so sick."

Grateful for the communication, the cop hugged Callie tighter. "That's why you need to tell us as soon as anything feels off," she said. Her daughter nodded, nuzzling her head against her chest.

"I feel okay…not a hundred percent, maybe like eighty? My back still hurts. And I get tired easy. I wish I didn't have to take that medicine anymore."

"I know, baby," Stef acknowledged. Callie had made her feelings about the antibiotics quite clear. She pressed a kiss on the brown curls, considering how lucky Callie was to escape permanent damage to her kidneys.

"I owe you an apology, sweetness," she said after a pause, deciding to change the subject. "I know how stressful it's been, having more visits with your PO. And I haven't been as patient or respectful of that as I should be…" After much reflection, she recognized she needed to do more to avoid making harder what was already a pressured situation.

Callie shrugged awkwardly as she fingered the hem of her top. "You weren't there before. You can't just show up now and butt in," she eventually said, admitting to some of the resentment she held towards Stef for what she saw as intrusiveness and the expectation that came with it for her to change.

The woman blew out a quiet breath; that hurt each time Callie pointed it out because she _would've_ been there had she been a part of Callie's life earlier. That hadn't been a choice, though. Telling her that wouldn't help; it wasn't what the girl was looking for. "You're right, I wasn't," she validated. "And believe me, I know it's an adjustment. All of a sudden someone else is there telling you what to do."

"Yeah," Callie agreed.

"You know that I need to be there though," Stef asserted. Whether her child liked it or not, she needed to do what she felt was best for her. "I'm sorry, but that part isn't negotiable. It's not going to be like this forever, I promise."

Callie sighed. It _was_ hard to have a parent in the room but better than being alone. "I just don't like it when you get mad at me because of what I do in my meeting," she said truthfully. She resented being treated like a child.

Stef turned Callie's hand so it was palm up and began to massage it from her wrist to the fingertips, something she had seen a pediatrics nurse do that calmed her right down. "You get in trouble at home when you act up at school; how is this different?" she questioned. Callie fell silent, letting her know she'd gotten her point across.

"I've tried to think about why I tend to be so upset after these meetings…and I think it's because Mama and I see you as such a kind, amazing kid, and we want everyone else to know that too. We have such high hopes for you, Cal. It's not fair but we still expect you to be on your best behaviour."

She paused, deliberating how she wanted to phrase this. "I don't believe that one bad chapter in your life means it's the end of your story, just like it shouldn't be for anyone else. But as much as you might not like it, your PO has all the power right now to call the shots. So we really need you to try. Don't be messing around in your meetings. Don't let this one bad chapter ruin your story," she urged.

"Okay, Mom."

Stef smiled. Hearing Callie call her that never got old.

"I do remember what it was like to be in juvie…" Callie said after some time. She had been repeating some of the things Stef had said while reaming her out after the meeting. "I just…sometimes, I don't want to remember or think about everything," she conceded. "It's nice to forget it happened."

Stef nodded in understanding. Although her daughter had never shared much about what her experience in juvie had been like, she had no doubt that it'd been traumatic. "I get that, my love. It's a good thing—a very good thing—to let yourself forget," she said, holding Callie tight. Of course her daughter wanted to move on. Realistically, while the scars would remain a permanent fixture, breaks were a way for her brain to rest so she could heal. That Callie was able to identify her needs meant she was growing and trying to move on.

"I—I didn't mean to make you feel bad by dredging up a time in your life you'd rather forget about, Cal. I'm sorry," she apologized. "You didn't need me to bring that back into your life. That was uncalled for."

There was a culture in secured facilities about how inmates should be treated and how they needed to act to survive. That was a big part of why Callie had acted the way she had with her PO—it stemmed from what she had learned to do to keep safe—and to keep going. She was going through the motions of what she was used to.

Callie shrugged."I'm mad at you," she admitted, looking down. "We always do something together after my meeting but then you couldn't wait to dump me at home because you were mad. You didn't want me around." She dared not whine but had to get it off her chest.

Stef shifted the girl slightly on her knee so that they could face each other. "You mean the trip to the store?" she clarified, mentally kicking herself as a slow nod confirmed her wife's earlier hypothesis. "I'm so sorry, baby. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to make you feel as though I didn't want to spend time with you because I was upset with you." She paused, realizing she should've seen this coming. Lena had been right; she'd been so disappointed by Callie's behaviour that she felt compelled to take something else away that Callie looked forward to, on top of losing her incentive. "I was so wrapped up in trying to make a point that I didn't consider your feelings when we came home straight away instead of doing errands together like we always do. It wasn't even on my radar, because I had made it more about me than you, and that was wrong," she elaborated, wishing her explanation was better.

"S'okay."

No, not really, but I hope you'll always be this forgiving, sweets. I will be more clear with my communication going forward." She planted a kiss on her daughter's cheek. "You know…Mama and I are learning how to be your Moms just as much as you are learning to accept us as your parents. Mistakes and messiness are going to be a part of that process, I guess."

Callie just stared. Hearing an adult tell her that they made mistakes was new.

"What was that?" Stef asked in surprise as the phone started vibrating and her daughter snatched it right out of her hand. "Wha—who is calling you at midnight?"

"No one, Mom! It's a reminder," Callie insisted. _Why was her mom so damn nosy?_ "I don't want to show you!"

Stef stared, unconvinced. Her daughter looked guilty. "I think you don't want to show me because you know you're about to get a reminder from me. Hand it over," she said sternly. She knew it'd been a mistake to return the device so soon. Eyes burned when Callie obliged and she attempted to focus against the bright backlight of the screen. "Oh, honey. Is that all that's left now?" she breathed, a lump forming in her throat at the description of the alarm Callie had set.

 _'T minus 31 days til forever fam_.'

Feeling somewhat self-conscious that her excitement had been discovered, Callie shrugged. "Yeah." She was still uncomfortable to acknowledge the adoption too much, afraid that somehow, doing so might jinx things.

"That's only one more month," Stef pointed out. While she sensed the reason behind her daughter's shyness, she also didn't want anxiety to cheat Callie out of being able to look forward to this. "Can you say it with me?" she asked as the girl nodded.

"One more month," Callie said, unable to help herself from grinning wide as she chorused along with her mom.


	49. Getting Feet Wet

**Author Note:** A special chapter in which Callie embarks on a tentative relationship with another family member. In the process, the meaning of unconditional love and support is reemphasized. Huge thanks to **theypreferthepeople** , who is A+ in her work (and patience!). There are at least a couple short stories currently in progress.

As always, thank you for all your support. Chapter 48 is nearly ready, and I hope to post it towards the end of the week to make up for the delay between this update and the last one :)

Happy reading! ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 47:** Getting Feet Wet

Now that they were officially less than a month away from the adoption being finalized, preparations were well underway and the stress of those was taking a toll on everyone, most of all Callie and Jude. Not having had much structure to their lives during their years in foster care, they had only begun to adjust to their routine before it was disrupted. As a result, both were acting out and struggling to abide by the rules. Callie was relentless in pushing the boundaries of the very limited freedom they allowed her, and Jude had started to follow in her footsteps, copying her sarcasm and backtalk. Like clockwork, things would unravel after a busy day where their routine changed—a missed agenda check, an unintended late bedtime, or an allowance made to skip a hair wash. A day where everything went smoothly because time constraints led to leniency, just to keep their household going, would be followed by considerable resistance and tears the next time they tried to return to structure.

It was proof of what the Moms already knew—neither was ready for more independence.

Together, they had been spending their evenings helping sort of out travel plans and accommodations for Lena's parents and thinking over options for welcome presents. Managing the gifting of overzealous grandparents who were gaining two more to call their own was a whole other animal. Between all of them, they decided on a large LEGO set for Jude and a bicycle and helmet for Callie so she could learn to ride as well.

The promise of permanency also allowed them to arrange everything else Callie and Jude would need that they hadn't yet had the opportunity to attend to. This neverending list of adoption-related tasks took them well beyond midnight on most nights.

 _Preparing answers to questions the attorney and judge would ask at the hearing;_

 _Reviewing the processes to add them on their extended health plans through their employers;_

 _Meeting with their financial advisor to begin paperwork to set up educational savings accounts;_

 _Purchasing formal attire for them (since Callie was outright refusing to wear the meat curtain blouse);_

 _And making good on an earlier promise to look at bunk beds for Jesus and Jude._

As a result, they were barely getting by with the housework. Every appointment and errand threatened to overflow their burgeoning plates. Things at the precinct had also been busy due to short staffing, which meant Stef wasn't always able to make it home on time, something Lena couldn't help resenting despite her best intentions. It wasn't for lack of trying, however, and when Stef did manage to leave right at the end of a shift, she took over for Lena as soon as she got through the door. Simple things like overseeing homework and keeping an eye on dinner in the oven freed up her wife to go have a bath and some time to herself.

This system wasn't sustainable in the long run, but at least the end was in reach. Soon, the big day would arrive.

* * *

"Cal, do me a favour please? Take Mariana's sandals down," Lena said, passing them to her eldest as she wrestled with the hose on the vacuum. She had cleaned yesterday so she wouldn't have to the day Sharon got in but Mari must have been trying on different shoes with her outfit because there was sand everywhere in the hallway. "Grab those dish towels on the landing, too. They're clean and need to go in the kitchen."

Sharon had offered to come stay with them for a few days to give them a hand. She had been out of state, away on a girls trip when Lena confided in her about how stressful things were. Shortly thereafter, her mother-in-law had rearranged her plans, determined to be available. Sharon had meant that literally, too. As soon as her flight landed, she'd come to their place instead of going home first. Her arrival coincided with the primary school's science fair and so Sharon would be meeting them at Anchor Beach, which wasn't ideal. However, she and Stef more than welcomed having another adult around to help with the kids and the daily tasks of running a full house Plus, it meant another opportunity for Sharon to spend some time with Callie and Jude before the adoption. While formal introductions had been made on a few other occasions, the three of them hadn't had much of an opportunity to bond. Despite their curiosity, Callie and Jude had been shy around her, only managing polite conversation. And with Brandon and the twins being close to their grandma and angling for time with her, it was easy for Callie and Jude to blend into the background. They hoped that Sharon living with them for a short period would nurture a different dynamic.

"Okay."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"Welcome, Mama," Callie replied patiently. She got the sense that Stef and Lena had been under a ton of stress lately; they'd been really busy and snapping a lot at each other and at them. She had been trying to help out as much as she could.

Lena was thankful for her daughter's willingness to help while being mindful not to ask too much of her. "After you're done, could you check in with Jude for me? See if he needs any more help," she asked, referring to the poster board for his project. "If no, tell him to bring it to my car. Please remind him to put it back in the garbage bag." They didn't have much time before they needed to lock up and head to the school. The fair was beginning in two hours and Jude and Connor needed some time to work on finishing touches and to set up.

"Okay!" Callie replied, bounding down the steps.

The woman shook her head and smiled at Callie's joy at being given something to do to help her younger brother. It seemed like their daughter finally grasped that they were in charge, but the happiness in being allowed to revisit her old role was obvious.

Having overheard their exchange, Stef emerged from the bedroom. "My goodness, who is this kid and what have you done with our Callie girl?" she remarked quietly so her words wouldn't carry. She couldn't help her surprise, though; it was the most agreeable their daughter had been all week.

She quickly gathered the items strewn on the floor so her wife could vacuum. Frantic cleaning was an anxious habit of Lena's before Dana would come over that had generalized to Sharon, even though Stef's mom actually preferred homes with a little mess to those that looked like no one lived in them.

"Shh! Don't jinx it!" Lena warned. Things could still go wrong. It was still the first time Sharon had stayed with them since Callie and Jude had moved in. She had full faith in her mother-in-law that she wouldn't overwhelm her newest grandkids, but there had been so much flux to everything lately that she couldn't help but worry how Callie and Jude would fare over the course of their evening away from their routine at home.

* * *

Callie felt her stomach do a flip as they drove up to school. She was stuck with Mariana in the backseat and all she could think of was how she wasn't ready to see Stef's mom again. She'd met Sharon before and the lady had seemed nice enough, but she didn't know her. Not really. Sharon would usually be around on days they had to go for family meetings. Either she watched the other kids so they could go—just her and Jude with Mom and Mama. But if Brandon, Jesus, and Mariana were doing other stuff, Sharon would come hang out with them in the waiting room while Dr. Wiseman was talking to their moms.

 _What if she was mean when she got angry? Worse, what if Sharon didn't like her? Then what?_

She leaned her head against the back window, letting the hum of wheels on the busy road take her far away from her thoughts. She jolted as Stef's phone vibrated; the buzz was jarring as it rattled in the empty cup holder. In the front seat, she heard her foster mother. "B, can you read that for me? Just in case it's Mama or Grandma." Bored, Callie resumed her position against the glass as she blocked out their murmured conversation.

She jumped again as Mariana reached across the backseat to shake her knee.

"Mom's talking."

" _Huh_? I know..." Callie replied distractedly as her sister rolled her eyes. "What?"

Stef eyed her eldest daughter in the rearview mirror as she turned into the parking lot, concerned about how Callie would tolerate the last minute changes to their plans. She and Lena had been making an effort to be more consistent in giving Callie a heads up about what would happen to avoid catching her off guard and the knee-jerk resistance that came with it. In general, the strategy had worked wonders but sometimes, things changed and Callie needed to learn to roll with it. "Sweets, did you hear what I was just saying?"

Callie rubbed at her eyes. They felt grainy and she realized she must've dozed off. "No...sorry," she said sheepishly. "What'd you say?"

Stef willed herself patience as she resigned herself to repeating herself. "I said, Grandma is having trouble getting a cab, so she's probably going to be late meeting us in the parking lot." She paused, knowing what she would say next would be a point of contention. "So Mama will head in with Jude first while the rest of us waits until Grandma shows, and then we can go inside to join them and get started on refreshments."

Really, it was just a slight alteration to the original plan, which was to welcome her mother as a family before going inside.

"I can walk Jude in and make sure he links up with Conner!" her daughter immediately offered, as predicted. She had brought this up several times already.

Callie's glimmer of hope at avoiding an encounter with Sharon faded as Stef turned around and gave her a pointed look.

"We've talked about this, honey. Mama needs to check in with some of the staff so it's best for Jude to go in with her," Stef explained, already uneasy with the fact she was offering a rationale. The truth was that Lena was taking him because she was his mother—she wanted to carry out her role with pride. They didn't have to explain that to Callie. "You'll see each other soon," she said, trying to abate some of her daughter's anxiety.

"Yeah, Cal! Plus, you get to see Grandma first," Brandon pointed out, his way of being helpful.

Callie wished the ground would open up and swallow her; she didn't _want_ to meet Sharon first. " _Your_ grandma," she said softly, only intending the comment to be for herself. But it was uttered the moment her foster mom cut the engine, and everyone heard.

Sighing to herself, Stef deliberated the best course of action as she got out of the car and waited for her kids to follow. After all, Callie's point was true. While her mother already saw their new children as grandchildren, that relationship was unidirectional. For now, Callie and Jude didn't consider her to be their grandmother. Her mother couldn't just waltz on in and declare herself their grandma.

It had taken a lot of patience and effort before Callie accepted her and Lena as parents. They were all too familiar with her resistance as they forged the new relationship with her—and while they had had a hard time seeing it while they were in the thick of it, what was causing a similar dynamic with Sharon was obvious now that they were on the outside looking in.

"B. Mariana. Could you go look for Mama's car, please? Walk back with Jesus," she instructed as both children nodded. "Watch for cars."

She waited for them to be out of earshot before walking around to the other side. Callie had her arms crossed and was leaning with her back against the car door. In spite of the defensive stance, her daughter deflated at seeing her, likely worried she'd upset her with her earlier comment.

"Bug…you're okay," Stef said sympathetically as she placed her hands on Callie's shoulders. "Really. It's okay to be unsure about Grandma. She's someone you don't know. But remember what Mama and I talked to you and Jude about?" she asked, continuing when Callie didn't respond. "You don't have to like her, or even call her Grandma if you don't want to." She and Lena were adamant they would not pressure Callie and Jude to bond with their grandparents.

The girl frowned. "She's gonna be in our house hanging around and stuff though." That sounded like a good idea—in theory. Whenever Sharon visited, she took on almost all of the household tasks like cooking and laundry and running out for groceries. As kids, they weren't ever off the hook for chores, but Moms were, meaning they had more time to hang out together and do fun stuff.

Stef smiled wistfully at the girl's plaintive tone, wondering if she should've asked her mom to stay at an Airbnb. At the same time, her heart soared at Callie's language, making it clear that she considered their home a safe place that was also hers. "Yes, it's going to be a bit different for a few days with my mom around. And like we've talked about, you do not have to like her or spend more time with her than you're comfortable—but we do expect you to be polite and use your manners." At the heart of Callie's wariness, Stef understood it had to do with not being sure if "Grandma" was a person she could trust and needing to find that out for herself. However, it saddened her that Callie didn't automatically assume that she and Lena would only allow safe people into their lives.

Sharon did not keep them waiting long. About fifteen minutes after Mariana and B returned with Jesus, the checkered black and white taxi pulled into the lot. "Watch for cars, please!" Stef bellowed, heart thumping, as three kids ran to greet their grandmother, narrowly missing a car that was reversing without due diligence.

Callie watched with interest as all three of her siblings crowded around the older woman and took turns bombarding her with hugs. She felt a bit more at ease seeing how comfortable they were around Sharon and how happy they were to see her again.

Feeling Callie's hand in hers, Stef gave it a reassuring squeeze and winked at her daughter. "Alright. Let's go say hi to my mom, shall we?"

Their greeting went as smoothly as she could've hoped, perhaps even a bit better than expected.

"Hi, Ma," Stef said, letting her mother kiss her as B, Mariana, and Jesus each claimed a piece of luggage to take to the SUV. "Thanks for coming."

"You know I wouldn't miss this for the world, Stefanie." It wasn't just about her daughters needing a break or the science fair, but the opportunity to make inroads with her newest grandchildren whenever possible. "Hi there, doll," she said, noticing for the first time that Callie was holding onto her daughter. She looked so different than the first time she'd met her; her face had filled out and her complexion was healthier. She even looked like she might have gained a few inches.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Callie looked down and sidled slightly closer to the cop.

Stef nudged her daughter. They had practiced polite introductions, which was an expectation with all guests.

"Uh. Hi," Callie replied shyly. "I—I'm Callie…a—and it's, um...really nice to see you, again," she stammered, hoping that was sufficient. Realizing that she was still holding Stef's hand in front of Sharon, she yanked it away and sprung back, shoving both hands deep into her pockets.

Once it was clear her mother had taken her words to give Callie space to heart, Stef relaxed. There was no hovering or fussing over Callie and she didn't try to give her a hug or show any signs of awkwardness towards Callie's body language.

" _Callie_. I remember. There is no way I could forget such a beautiful name," Sharon said as her granddaughter's eyes flitted up in surprise. "It is wonderful to see you again, too, darling." She couldn't wait for them to spend time together and get to know each other, but she stopped herself from saying more.

Callie gulped and bit her lip, not sure how to respond. Knowing her foster mom expected good manners, she hesitated as she thought of a considerate response. "Thank you," she said, kicking herself as her voice inflected with bubbling insecurity. Stef's mom seemed like a really kind person, although she was careful to remind herself that really kind looking people weren't always kind on the inside. They'd learned that in foster care. But it was hard to doubt Sharon and she found herself imagining what it'd be like to have a grandmother like her that she could hang out with. Or, what it would be like to have a grandmother at all. They hadn't had any grandparents growing up. Sharon was probably the oldest person she'd ever known.

Sharon didn't miss a beat. "Now, I understand that there is a science fair underway and that Jude has a booth."

"Yeah. It's his first one," Callie replied eagerly, distraction helping to lower her guard. Sharon's eyes smiled a little when she talked and with her red cropped hair, matching lipstick and purple-hued eyeshadow and flowy scarf...she was almost cool. Definitely cooler than Stef, that was for sure.

"That's pretty special. I don't know that I'll recognize him if he's grown as much as you have."

The girl gave a shy smile. "I can show him to you. He kinda looks like me but he's small."

"That's very kind of you to offer."

Relief flooded Stef at seeing her mother and Callie walk together ahead of her. Callie kept several feet between them, but her curiosity of the older woman was evident by the way she'd glance at her more than Sharon paid attention to her. Pulling her phone from her pocket, Stef snapped a photo and sent a text to her wife.

 _I think it's going to be okay. Sharon heading in with Callie. Callie leading._

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Stef was having to eat her words.

"Mom. Please, can I go?" Callie begged. There were too many people in the gymnasium and she didn't want to be stuck inside. "Why do you make me ask if you always say no?" she accused when Stef shook her head, although she kept her voice low so people around them wouldn't hear.

Stef took a deep breath before responding, regretting her earlier optimism. This was now the second time in half an hour her daughter was asking to go outside, and her irritation was rising. "Callie, that is not true." They usually said yes. "But the awards are about to be presented and I think your brother and Connor have a shot, don't you think? When that is over I'll go outside with you."

She didn't understand. Things had looked so promising until they began to unravel, and it'd happened so slowly that she hadn't noticed what had precipitated it. Callie happily reintroduced Jude to Sharon, and stood by proudly while her brother explained the electromagnetic properties of the cornstarch-based slime he and Connor had made. They had made it dark blue and glittery, to show how the particles would form a chain and moved independently towards the charged ions in the styrofoam board. The older woman complimented the boys on their choice to use Frankenstein-esque font, complete with _It's Aliiiiiiiive_ as a tagline.

"Did something happen?" Stef questioned.

"I just want to not be here, okay?" Callie replied petulantly. Her voice was now teetering on a whine.

Stef refrained from giving a facetious response. That much was obvious. She wracked her brain, wondering what she could do for her daughter to give her some space while being able to keep an eye on her from a distance. Between five kids, one of whom was participating in his first school event, it wasn't easy. But she knew if she didn't offer some sort of solution that met Callie halfway, Callie would do what she wanted. She could read her daughter well enough that she could see the disobedience brewing, much like a train picking up its speed about to jump the track.

"Go sit on the bleachers— _wait_ , I'm not done talking," she said as the girl began to walk away.

Callie huffed loudly in exasperation at being stopped.

"I see you and you see me." The reminder was in reference to the invisible boundary of how far her daughter was allowed to go. "Understood?" Once she received agreement, she let go of Callie, watching her stalk away, hoping they'd get through their evening intact.

* * *

Callie smirked to herself as she spotted her foster mom looking around for her from across the gym. She had found almost the furthest point up in the bleachers to sit, way off to the side, where it wasn't very busy. But busy enough to be relatively hidden. And while technically she was pushing Stef's rule a little, she could see her fine from where she was sitting. How would she have known that Stef's eyes were so bad?

It was just nice not to be in a crowded space with awkward stares and hushed whispers. The more she paid attention, the easier it was to notice it happening, but it wasn't like she could call anyone out. Sadly, she wasn't surprised—Stef and Lena held hands sometimes. At first it had embarrassed her, before she realized that was silly. She didn't have to be embarrassed for others' ignorance and stupidity, especially when her moms weren't bothered by it. But still, it pissed her off that they were getting judged for something that wasn't anyone else's business. People who didn't like same-sex relationships didn't have to go get themselves in one. Those women were the nicest people ever. She hadn't known it at first but they were and they didn't deserve this.

Overhearing cutting remarks in a conversation between adults she was sure were about their family, Callie froze.

"That one. The one with the slime experiment? See him?"

Realizing that comment was about Jude, she stabbed angrily at the chicken nugget on her plate. _So stupid._

"I bet he's gay."

Callie whipped her head around, not bothering to be inconspicuous so they knew someone had heard their ignorance. She was not surprised at seeing two women who looked like Stepford wives. They were as clueless as she'd expected and didn't notice her.

Her anger surged, forming a knot in her belly as the remarks continued. "If he isn't, he will be soon enough. He doesn't have a chance, not with two lesbians for parents."

"Neither of them have a chance. Kelsey came home and told me that the girl they took in—his sister—is also somewhat of a _problem_ child."

" _Oh_?"

"Mm _hm_."

 _Of course one of them was Kelsey's mom_ , Callie thought. Now she knew where Kelsey caught her bitchy from.

"There should be a law against this sort of thing. Those poor children will never know what's normal. Kids need a mother _and_ a father. I mean, how can they even put them with that... _family_?"

"If you can call them that."

Unexpected tears pricked Callie's eyes at the hurtful barrage of words. Seeing her foster mom approach the bleachers, she quickly wiped her eyes. No way did she want Stef to find out people were talking smack about her and Lena. They didn't deserve that. Not after all they'd done to help her and Jude, to give them a home and food to eat and clothes and everything.

"Hey love bug. Get enough to eat?" Stef asked as she sat next to her.

"Mmhm... Is it time to go yet?"

Stef hung her head in exasperation. "Why are you so bent on leaving, honey? We're having such a nice time as a family," she said gently. It wasn't often that they got to go out together and as much as she didn't want to, she found herself taking this personally. "Please talk to me, baby. Did something happen?"

Callie shook her head. "It's just stuffy in here…" she complained, trailing off just as she heard the women again.

"That must be the sister."

This time, frustration got the best of her. Snapping her head around, Callie shot them a disgusted look. "You don't know anything about our family!" she huffed as she sprang to her feet. "In fact, you clearly don't know anything about families. So I suggest you shut your _fucking_ mouth before I—"

Words left her as she felt Stef's firm hand on her shoulder and was pulled in close.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, or so help me Callie, you're going to be in deep trouble. I am warning you," Stef said. The redirection was stern but in a voice soft enough to force Callie to listen carefully to what she was saying. By this point, she had a good guess as to what had been going on before she had arrived, but her child was grossly mistaken if she thought she'd be allowed to intimidate anyone.

"I know _enough_ to know what you're doing to these children isn't right. I know what I see," Kelsey's mother huffed as she and her friend stood up, grabbing their purses.

Callie twisted away from Stef, taking advantage of her surprise to stomp up the bleacher. People were watching, but she didn't care. These women would learn just how wrong they were. "I _SAID, SHUT IT!"_ she shouted, making it up two steps before finding herself swiftly yanked back by the strap on her overalls and coming face-to-face with her furious mother.

"Oh no you don't. Not another peep or inch from you," Stef warned, dismayed by Callie's behaviour and the fact that she always ended up acting out in public. She levelled the child with the deadliest look she could manage, staring at her until the defiance faded and she was confident her direction would be heeded this time. Keeping a hold around Callie's arm, she led her down a step and positioned herself between her daughter and the ' _concerned_ ' parents. "I'm sure you're both aware this school is a safe place for all students and families alike. Given that I have reason to believe you've made my daughter feel unsafe, I will be taking my concerns to administration." That was grounds for being banned from future events. She lead Callie away to make it clear they were done engaging.

"Are you okay?" she asked. After what she had witnessed, she couldn't be too mad at her. "You aren't in trouble with me, but we do need to talk."

Heart still pounding from the surge of adrenaline, Callie nodded. Her heart sank when Stef gestured to Lena, who began approaching with Sharon. "Please don't tell, Mama. Please," she pleaded with the cop, hoping they could keep this between them. She didn't need another parent on her for this. But Stef remained silent and before she knew it, Lena and Sharon were there before she could get anything out of her foster mom.

"What's going on?" Lena asked, immediately worried by Callie shaking and breathing hard.

Stef bit her lip. She had no interest in telling her daughter off in front of the others if it could be helped. "Everything's fine," she said, deciding to downplay the situation a little as confusion etched into Lena's brow. "Callie and I are just going to step outside for a moment to discuss appropriate ways one can be an advocate. I'll update you after." She could see Lena's face fall. Both of them had been rooting for Callie to get through the evening without incident.

Callie felt her cheeks burn at the reference to misbehaviour and the sympathetic look Sharon gave her. No longer wanting to leave, she reminded Stef why they shouldn't. "But the awards," she said weakly. "Mom." This was so dumb; she had only been trying to stick up for their family and now she was in trouble for it.

 _If only her child had thought about that before_ , Stef thought, refraining from making the sarcastic remark out loud. "Mama will text us when it begins so we won't miss it," she reasoned. She had no intention of withholding Callie's chance to support Jude, nor did she have any desire to punish Jude by having his sister miss out on witnessing his first science fair win. At the same time, she needed some privacy to check in with Callie to learn more about what she had caught the tail end to.

It was difficult to know if she'd handled it correctly, though. Stef reiterated to Callie that while she was entitled to her anger, the way in which she had chosen to respond had been inappropriate. That she was still accountable to her actions. In her own guilt over not having prepared Callie for ignorant comments that their non-traditional family sometimes unfortunately attracted, Stef issued no real consequences apart from expecting an apology from her should they encounter the two women again and a revisit of their conversation with Lena before bed. But her daughter had outright refused to talk, and the two laps they did around the school track only appeared to infuriate her further.

Fortunately, by the time they arrived home, any traces of anger had dissipated. But Stef kept a close eye on her and as she did the dishes that evening, it hit her that Callie hadn't spoken much to anyone since getting home and she couldn't help the distinct feeling that her daughter was upset with her. She seemed forlorn and lost in thought through the dessert celebrating Jude and Connor's first place win. Most of all, she seemed especially uncomfortable around Sharon, in direct contrast to their earlier interaction. Whatever light the two of them had shared before had faded and Callie appeared to be avoiding her.

When she saw Lena grab the opaque bottle of antibiotics out of the fridge, she silently hoped Callie would give in. She did not want to have to step in and be the mean parent tonight, not with all the second-guessing she was doing over if she had handled the situation at school correctly. Not that she minded, but for whatever reason, they were in a bad cycle with Callie not listening unless it was her—and this was reinforced every time she stepped in between her wife and eldest daughter. They'd been picking their battles, but it wasn't possible when it came to medication.

"I don't need that anymore…" Callie protested as soon as the dispenser came out, signalling what was to come. She kicked herself for not slipping out to the family room when she'd had the chance.

Lena gave the container a vigorous shake. "Yes you do, honey. Remember we've talked about this? It is really important you finish the round to make sure the infection is completely cleared. Otherwise, it could come back. You could build resistance and next time you need antibiotics it won't work," she reasoned, trying to be patient with Callie. Her mind became tired at the idea of the infection coming back. Between herself and Stef, they had missed two weeks of work while their daughter had recovered. Two very long weeks.

Determined not to engage, she measured out the dose and attempted to hand her child the plastic cup. "Come on. Let's get this over with," she said confidently. Just once, she wanted Callie to obey her without the situation deteriorating to the point that Stef needed to intervene.

Callie took a step back, refusing to accept the offered sludge. Lena could not be serious. They'd just had chocolate avocado mousse and raspberries. This would totally kill the aftertaste. She was queasy just thinking about it.

"Why don't you want to take it? You've made it this far. The round is almost done," Lena coaxed, gentler this time. She sighed when Callie didn't say anything, but her shoulders went up and she gagged.

The cop frowned. Whenever Lena posed an open-ended question, Callie would take it as an opportunity to dig her heels in. Every time. Steeling herself for an argument, she dried her hands and walked around the island, still giving Lena space to handle things but making her presence known.

"It's gross. It tastes like chalk," Callie mumbled. Her eyes darted over to Sharon; she didn't want her to hear.

"Only for a second, baby. You can eat something after," the woman suggested.

"It's more than a second," Callie huffed. Lena never listened to her. She had trouble swallowing that stuff.

"Honey, please?" Lena asked, cringing at hearing herself beg. _Why did everything with Callie have to be a struggle these days?_

The girl crossed her arms. "I'll take double tomorrow morning," she bargained.

"That's not how it works, baby. Your health is not up for negotiation." Lena kept the veneer of confidence intact, but was definitely feeling compromised.

" _Mama_!" Callie snapped in frustration. She was immediately remorseful when she saw she'd made Lena flinch.

Done with the whining, Stef went and grabbed two spoons and one of the single serve yogurts out of the fridge. This was the only technique that sorta worked and that was a heck of a lot better than when they'd first started and Callie was cheeking pills or spitting everything out, so she did not in any way begrudge their progress.

"I don't want to do it like that," Callie protested as her foster mom peeled the top off the container and handed it to her, along with a spoon, without a word. Despite her complaining, Callie took the items grudgingly.

"Well, Mama gave you a chance to do it in one go but it wasn't acceptable, so that's why we're having to do it this way." Stef took the plastic container from Lena and poured some of the liquid onto the spoon, taking care to catch the drip down the side to avoid losing too much of the dose. This also cut down on wasted medication in case Callie spit it out, which had happened on more than one occasion now. She waited for the remainder of the dose in the cup to settle then quickly eyeballed the volume.

"Okay. You know the drill," she said, making it clear she was not in the mood for funny business.

"Please don't make me eat that," Callie balked as she shook her head. Tears welled and threatened to fall as, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sharon smile as she read the paper. She knew she was only succeeding in making herself look bad, but the stuff would make her sick.

Stef had to hide her amusement at her daughter acting as though she was about to be poisoned. "I'm not making you." She nodded to the yogurt Callie had in her hand. "But you have the strength to make the right decision." That was the spiel she always used to encourage Callie to eat a little before they began, suggesting it would help make her brave. Even though they both knew the point of the snack was to mask the taste of the medicine. "Come on, it's not that bad," she pushed, knowing Callie would cave. "We do this every time you are due for your dose and it ends up being okay, and this time is no different.

"Ah ah ah. Where are you going?" she said when the girl took a small step back. She remained calm but was beginning to worry at signs Callie wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Not here... _Moommm…_." Callie whined. Sharon was there and she didn't want her to see all this go down. Part of her wanted to try and bail, but then Moms would really be mad. There was honestly no way out of this.

Tired of the stalling, Stef shook her head, despite the fact Callie had just indicated concession. "No. You've run out of opportunities to call the shots. Let's get this over with."

"I'll take the pills," Callie insisted. There was no way she could get those down the hatch either, but at least then she could try to hide them. Plus, that was less weird than Stef feeding her this stuff like some little kid.

Stef scoffed loudly. "Nice try. I am not falling for that, Cal." Nurses had pegged her daughter as being one of the most brazen on the ward with her strategies to avoid taking medication. The Pediatrician had quickly switched Callie to the liquid form only to learn that she would spit it into her cup when she thought no one was watching.

"You don't trust me!" Callie accused, her disappointment at not being able to show her grandmother she could be normal causing her to lash out.

The cop narrowed her gaze at her daughter, not liking the edge in her voice and aware of exactly what game Callie was trying to play. Although, she wasn't so much frustrated as she was confused. It'd been a whole separate ordeal to get the medication sorted. Because Callie refused to swallow pills, she had gone to three different pharmacies to get the white grape flavour Callie wanted. Not purple grape. White. Had she known that the flavour didn't matter, she wouldn't have worked nearly as hard to get the one Callie had insisted on.

"Is this the road you're really deciding to go down, my little pill cheeker? Hm?"

" _MOM_! Why would you even say that?!" Callie screeched, panicking when she noticed Sharon laugh softly at the comment which had been loud enough for everyone to hear. Now Sharon knew more bad stuff about her and that was the last thing she wanted after the thing that'd happened at school. She wanted the older lady to like her, and didn't want to do anything that would make Sharon change her mind about her.

" _Callie_ …I am done playing. Stop stalling please," Stef said firmly, feeling her patience running thin. "Spoon in yogurt. _Now_." She waited for Callie to do as she was told and take the first bite before proceeding to feed her the dose by thirds. Her daughter chased each spoonful with a mouthful of yogurt.

When they were done, she took away the empty container and spoon and set it down on the counter. She stepped forward, ready to offer a hug along with the robotic phrase they'd been coached to by the Pediatrician. ' _I'm sorry I had to help you, but thank you for letting me.'_ The one that acknowledged they had strong armed her into doing something they didn't have her full consent for. But before she could, her daughter ran past her and up the stairs.

"You ruin _everything_!"

* * *

Later, they found her curled up in her bed facing the wall, a pillow hugged tight against her body. Hearts heavy at the sound of soft cries, the women shared a look of concern; neither could believe things had escalated the way they had.

Not wanting to startle Callie in case she hadn't heard them come in, Stef slowly lowered herself down beside her and began to thread her fingers through her hair. "Honey…" she murmured, heart breaking at the tear-streaked face that turned around.

Callie looked between them, absolutely bereft. "M—Mom. Mama. S—sorry. S—sorry I y—yelled," she hiccupped.

"Oh, my love...you look like you need a hug." They had given her twenty minutes of space and she had likely cried the entire time. Tugging the pillow away, Stef helped her daughter sit up and gathered her into her arms, relieved when Callie did the same. "We love you. So, so much," she said, needing to reassure her all was okay between them. "Thank you for apologizing. You're forgiven." Truth be told, she was very surprised her daughter had initiated saying sorry without any prompting.

"Where is all this coming from, baby? What's gotten you this upset?" she asked, rubbing Callie's back through a coughing fit. It had been quite some time since they had seen her this worked up. "Do I really ruin everything?" she tried, hoping for an indication of what had gone wrong. "I do?" she tried to clarify when Callie nodded.

"You were saying all this bad stuff about me and Grandma Sharon was right there," Callie said, sucking loudly through her nose. Seeing Lena's confusion, she continued to explain. "D—downstairs. And at school, you said we had to go talk and she knows what that means, Mom. Everyone does!" More tears fell. She had wanted to put her best foot forward so Sharon would like her. "Now she's not gonna like me because she knows how big a problem I am."

" _Sweetheart_. _No_. Where on earth would you get an idea like that?" Lena asked, sitting between by the foot of the bed so she could make eye contact with Callie. Her child's heartbreak over her wish to be accepted and her conviction that it'd been jeopardized was visceral. The admission over feeling the need to impress Sharon, despite repeated reassurances that there was no pressure to develop a relationship, was the most concerning.

Callie peered over Stef's shoulder. "Kelsey's mom said I was a problem and said Jude was gay and we didn't have a hope living with you guys because you're lesbians and it's not normal," she said in a small voice. "They said we're not a real family." Tearfully, she recounted the conversation she'd overheard, as well as the whispers and stares.

"I am so sorry you had to hear such a hateful things about your brother and our family," Lena consoled. Their youngest daughter was friends with Kelsey and while they preferred she wasn't because they didn't know her parents, they also couldn't control who their children spent time with at school. Obviously, Mariana had told her friend that Callie and Jude were being adopted. Kids being kids, Kelsey had talked about it and brought it home where it became fodder for those who hid their prejudice behind the argument of defending traditional family values. She shook her head in disbelief over what they had learned. "Some people are really close minded about families that are different, like ours. And they are entitled to their own opinions and feelings, but bringing it up the way they did is inappropriate.

"Our family counts," she added. "If it counts to you and I and your siblings, that is all that matters."

"I know! But it was hard to hear that stuff about people you love. And I was trying to stick up for you guys but then Mom yelled at me!" Callie kept ranting.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, sunshine," Stef said, quickly realizing that their earlier conversation needed a revisit if her daughter was upset about not being able to finish ' _sticking up'_ for them. "Here, sit up." She propped the pillow against the headboard and moved to sit beside her daughter while Lena took up the other side, sandwiching Callie between them.

"Now, remember I told you, I think it was very thoughtful and kind and sweet of you to try and stand up for us, but the way you went about it was absolutely out of line," Stef said, leaning into her daughter. "Telling someone to do something with the threat of doing it for them if they don't is just that—a threat, Callie." She knew how Callie would've finished that statement had she been allowed to. "Charging up to them is intimidation that falls into the same category and is just as unacceptable."

Callie's heart sank with the realization her foster mom was right. "I guess so."

"You guess so or you know so?" Stef asked, her voice firm and gentle all at once.

"I know so."

"That's more like it." She fought to keep her expression serious, seeing her wife's amused smile as she sat on the other side of Callie. "I don't ever want to see or hear about you retaliating like that again. Because if there _is_ a next time, we are not going to be as lenient," she said sternly, desperate to have her toe the line. "I'm serious, Callie. If something like this happens again, we will be having a different sort of discussion around your behaviour. One that neither you or I will be very fond of. Because like we talked about, you are responsible for yourself and your reactions. No one else's. Is that clear?"

Her daughter brushed away a stray tear. "No fighting," she said dejectedly. She understood the consequence being alluded to if she crossed that line again: her behind and her Mom's hand, at the same meeting.

"No, not just no fighting. No threatening language with your words or body. You know that," Stef corrected. The specifics were important.

"I appreciate that you wanted to stick up for your family, honey, I really do," Lena said. That spoke volumes about their daughter's kindheartedness. "It makes me so proud that you stood up for something you knew was wrong and I hope that's something you'll never hesitate to do if you see someone being mistreated," she praised. Callie smiled shyly at her. "That being _said_ ," she added, giving her daughter a look that let her know she expected better. "It's important to keep in mind the reasons why you're standing up to someone. It is most definitely not our responsibility to change other people. So you need to decide for yourself if it's worth it."

"But you and Mom say it's your responsibility about all the things we do," the girl pointed out.

Now it was Stef's turn to smirk. "That's a bit different, but you're not wrong. It's a parent's job to teach their kids right from wrong and to protect them, not the other way around. So yes, you are our responsibility."

"Oh," Callie faltered.

The cop bopped her on the nose. "Yes. ' _Oh_ ,'" she teased, repeating it in the same tone Callie had used.

"Does that make sense?" Lena asked. She was struggling with how to best convey the message to Callie, who was a bit young for this lesson. "No one can force another person to be kind."

"Look, Cal. Your Mama and I have had our share of mean things said to us over the last few decades. And that never feels good," Stef explained. "But I don't harbour resentment about it—not like I used to. It's not worth it to me to try and change anyone's belief system because I don't need to prove myself to them." She glanced over Callie's shoulders at her wife. It'd taken her well over a decade to reach self-acceptance and be comfortable in her own skin, and she knew Lena had had a similar journey. "What's important to me is that at the end of the day, when I go home, it's to a family that loves and supports me no matter what."

"So everything else is just noise," Callie piped up, understanding.

"You got that right, kiddo."

"So...eff that noise, huh, Mom?"

Stef nearly guffawed at the conclusion. She didn't have the heart to call her out on the language, which was pretty tame relative to whatever else Callie would typically come up with. "I'm going to let that one go, but yes, in a sense."

She paused, deciding how to broach her apology to Callie for neglecting her feelings around what she might not have wanted shared with her mother. Something Lena had brought up when she noticed Callie avoiding her Grandmother.

"I'm sorry I didn't respect your privacy earlier with my Mom around," she began. "She's such an important person in our family that I keep forgetting she's new to you and Jude, and that's not fair to either of you." Suddenly, Callie's sensitivity—the shyness and indignancy, the cautious glances towards the older woman to gauge her reactions at redirections uttered too loudly—made sense. She had embarrassed her.

They had always known that Callie's sense of dignity was important to her so they usually took her aside whenever they needed to speak to her. But at home, this wasn't always possible. Plus, it was a different dynamic within the family. Her mother, on the other hand, was an outsider to Callie. Their argument over medication had been the last straw.

"Were you afraid that Grandma might like you less when she learned you don't always like to listen, just like all of her other grandchildren?" In hindsight, it was obvious Callie wanted to win her grandmother's approval. She had been extra polite, remembering to use her manners and trying to make eye contact with her.

That insecurity of not being accepted hadn't come up in some time, but this was a reminder that the fear was still there. Only, it had shapeshifted onto another person.

Callie brought a knuckle up to her mouth, feeling a bit sheepish as she chewed. Of course, Stef's mom would think the same. Stef had to have learned it from _somewhere_. She frowned as insecurity muscled the thought out of the way. "But you said I didn't have to like her." The words had weighed on her mind for some time.

"We did, yes," Stef replied slowly, not quite sure where her daughter was going with the statement. "You don't."

"But doesn't that mean she doesn't have to like me, either?"

"Baby, it doesn't quite work that way," Stef murmured sadly, glancing at Lena for assistance.

"Oh, sweetheart. Grandma doesn't just like you, she loves you—believe me, she already does—and will, no matter what. Do you know why?" Lena questioned. She appreciated her daughter's dilemma; while everyone in their family trusted in having Sharon's unconditional love, there was no way Callie would've known that. There was no history there. Time and patience was needed for Callie to figure her out.

Callie shook her head. Savouring the security she had between her Moms, she leaned into the cop, bringing both of her knees up so she could tuck in all cozy. Resting her cheek against the woman's side as Stef readjusted to make room, she told herself she would listen and try to believe whatever it was they were about to say. They hadn't failed her yet.

"Because a grandmother's love is infinite. She loves you because she has a whole lotta love to give. Because you are ours, and because you are you. You don't have to worry about impressing her. We're family now."

"Are you okay, sweetness? Are we good?" Stef asked, bringing her daughter close.

She was relieved when Callie reached up and slipped her hand into her palm. Her way, she had learned, of letting her know all was forgiven and right again.

Although grateful for all the progress they had made together, she was still floored when Callie's quiet voice repeated Lena's words. "We're family now."


	50. An Unexpected Hurdle

**Author Note** :

A quicker update, as promised. The content was originally embedded as a scene in another chapter but ended up with a life of its own. I'm lukewarm on the final product, and there's likely an inaccuracy (or two) when it comes to the details of court proceedings but it serves its purpose. Enjoy! As always, so many thanks to **theypreferthetermpeople** for her dedication.

Thank you as well to the reviewer who brought to my attention a pretty big discrepancy in the previous chapter that had gone unnoticed; I really appreciate it. Last chapter was written as though Sharon lived out of town, but previously, her character had roles that alluded to her living close by. This is an error (she lives in the same state in this AU). I've gone back and made some minor alterations to the first two scenes in Chapter 47 to reflect this. Sorry for the confusion! Forgetting these details from earlier on is definitely a sign that this story is getting stale. On a related note: three more chapters left and an epilogue. ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 48** : An Unexpected Hurdle

" ** _STEF_**! _Stef_ , could you grab that?" Lena hollered. She was halfway down the stairs, balancing an oversized load of laundry in her arms. It was before dinner on a Thursday and all five kids were at the table—binders, agendas, and books sprawled across the surface as they did their homework. For Lena, this time was a chance to tackle chores before the children were set free to do whatever they wanted, which often undermined her efforts to maintain some sort of equilibrium and order in their household.

"No worries, got it!" Stef called, grabbing the handset. Her chest automatically clenched in the way it usually did when she recognized Bill's number on the Caller ID.

"Hi, Bill. You're working late," she remarked, curious as to why he was calling at this time of day. His shift usually ended at four-thirty and it was past half past six.

Their children's Case Manager laughed softly on the other end of the line. "Yes, you could say that. I have tomorrow off so I'm hoping to wrap things up here. That way I might actually be able to unplug."

"That sounds great. You should be using up your vacation," Stef replied, skeptical at the small talk. There was a cautious sort of emptiness to his cheerful comments. Like most Case Managers at the county, his workload was heavy, ensuring he almost never called unless there was a reason. Small talk was indicative of changes—a new appointment, a home visit, or something to do with Callie's probation.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, deciding to keep her response casual for Callie and Jude, who were watching her anxiously after hearing his name when she answered. She shot a reassuring wink their way, but two nervous pairs of eyes followed her nonetheless as she paced behind the island. The news probably wasn't good but she had to keep positive for them.

"Nowhere. My folks are coming in from New England."

"Well a staycation is nice...they don't get as much credit as they should, in my opinion. Who wants the hassle of traveling anyway?" She refrained from cursing under her breath for having probably missed him on her cell. He often tried that line before the house.

At this point, Lena poked her head down the stairwell. "What's going on?" she mouthed, trying to follow the awkward conversation that was borne out of anxiety. Her concern was justified when her wife covered the mouthpiece with one hand and gave a slight shake of her head that would've been imperceptible had she not been paying close attention.

Bill sighed, knowing there was no way to cushion the news. "I don't suppose you've heard from court today?" he began. "They faxed paperwork over to our office this afternoon. I was able to speak to the clerk, and she was planning on getting ahold of you or Lena." He bit his lip; Stef was going to lose her shit.

"No, we haven't…unless they called our work and we missed it." She glanced at Lena who shook her head, indicating she hadn't received a call at her office."So what's the deal?" she questioned, forcing an even tone as she cut straight to the chase. Worry was etched onto Callie and Jude's faces.

"There's no easy way to say this, but they've moved the date of the hearing to the following week. I wanted to give you a heads up. They probably will need confirmation from you that you can still make it."

Stef swallowed her anger. " _Why_?" she said incredulously.

"The short and the long of it is, the judge forgot that his son's sixth grade graduation was on the original date and rebooked all his appointments. Another judge is able to preside over some of the hearings that day, but he only requested to work a half-day. All the ones scheduled for that afternoon were rescheduled."

Stef turned around, leaning against the countertop and closing her eyes in resignation. "Of course he forgot," she said flatly. _And of course the judge standing in wouldn't be able to honour all existing appointments, theirs included._ Sometimes it seemed like luck was never on Callie and Jude's side.

"I'm sorry, Stef. This is going to be tough for the kids."

The cop laughed dryly, begrudging the fact that external factors would soon prey on lingering insecurities. "Yeah, it will. It's not your fault, though. I wish they'd told us sooner." Her mind was already in overdrive wondering how to begin explaining this to Callie and Jude. They had made such a big deal of the date already, with family and friends having booked travel plans. In the grand scheme of things, it was only a difference of a few days, but still, another unnecessary delay. One they didn't need on top of everything else that they'd gone through.

"Well, it is court. They don't exactly have a reputation of putting people first. You know how it is."

"You know I do, Bill." She was saved from making any further comments that would convey her disappointment by a beep signalling the call waiting. She pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the display. Recognizing the courthouse number she quickly thanked Bill and accepted the second call.

"Yes, this is she," she said when the clerk asked to speak with her. "Bill just made us aware," she confirmed. Her attempt to save herself from having to hear that awful line of reasoning again, which was unacceptable to her.

"Of course we will be there." She glanced over at Callie and Jude, concerned. Her reply came across a little more curt than she intended when asked for their availability on the Tuesday following their original Adoption Day. After all of the uncertainty and waiting, they were absolutely going to attend whichever timeslot they were offered.

"Is there no availability for the morning of the Thursday?" she pushed, referring to the original date although she knew it was pointless. "Of course. I forgot," she said, unable to help her clipped tone when all remaining hopes were dashed. She knew she was being petty by taking her frustrations out on the clerk, when it wasn't in her control, either.

"What should I tell them? My children, yes," Stef said when the woman on the other end asked if she had any questions. _Who else?_ Lips tight, she drummed the cabinet beneath the sink as the clerk stammered the same explanation Bill had given her. She was polite but oblivious as to why the change in circumstances was a big deal, which did nothing to tame Stef's frustration.

She and Lena happened to like the judge assigned to their case. He was the same one who had finalized the twins' adoption, and was caring, albeit somewhat disorganized. She was more upset that the other judge had the audacity to discard half the day's appointments, with the expectation that a later date would be received with patience and understanding by two kids who had waited over half a decade for their adoption.

Deciding she'd better end the conversation before saying something she regretted, she committed the new date and time to memory. "We'll see you on the Tuesday. Eighteenth at one-thirty," she confirmed politely for the sake of setting a good example for her children.

She set the phone back into its cradle a little roughly, taking her frustration out on the benign object which had been the conduit for bad news. Her throat tightened as she glanced at the rest of her family. They were sitting too quietly, and Callie and Jude's expressions were solemn. Her youngest son's chin was dimpled as he tried not to cry in front of his other siblings, with whom he still wasn't completely comfortable sometimes. Though Callie had one hand on his knee, her shoulders were sagged, giving the impression of someone defeated by circumstances that rendered her powerless. Behind and between them stood Lena, a supportive hand on each of their shoulders. Stef exhaled another sigh and gave her wife a knowing look before grabbing the calendar off its hook on the kitchen wall.

"B. Mariana. Jesus. Can you give Mama and I a moment alone with Callie and Jude, please?" Wide-eyed, they all nodded and scattered dutifully out the door to the backyard.

Placing the calendar down on the table, she took the chair adjacent to Callie so the four of them could sit close to one another. "That was Bill and the courthouse," she began, clasping her hands. She hated the news she had to break. "The judge who was supposed to do our adoption hearing, he forgot that his kid's primary school graduation is the same afternoon." She tapped the thirteenth of the month, a Thursday, which had been decorated with stars and stickers. "There isn't another judge available during that time who can take over," she explained, simplifying the explanation. Getting into the nitty gritty would only disenchant them further. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, the angry inflection found its way into her voice.

"Sooo...Adoption Day is going to happen a few days later now," Stef said softly, sliding her finger across the page to the eighteenth. Even on the calendar it was a big leap. "I'm so sorry, my babies," she continued as Lena's mouth gaped open with surprise. "I know how much you were looking forward to that day. Mama and I were as well."

Lena drew in a measured breath. For the rest of their children, who were excited to gain two more official siblings, this would be disappointing. But for Callie and Jude, the news came as a devastating blow. It had been enough to get them acquainted with the idea of being adopted. To have it pushed back now was simply unfair.

"Can the date get changed again? If it does, will our adoption get cancelled?" Callie interrupted before Stef could say anything else. Her voice pitched as she fought to keep tears at bay. Her mind couldn't help but to go there: without a date, the adoption wouldn't be able to go through.

"Oh, honey, no. No, your adoption cannot be cancelled. It's going to happen," Stef immediately reassured. It hurt that that was the first thing that'd come to her daughter's mind. "Hey, hey…hey, look at me," she said, reaching up to stroke Callie's cheek with her thumb.

She waited until Callie made eye contact before continuing. "It's just a few days later. Less than a week. Just a weekend, really, in between," she encouraged, trying to be cheerful. In reality, she knew how difficult that weekend would be for all of them.

Retracting her bottom lip, Callie dropped her gaze downward. That was _five_ more days. "But he's a family judge," she piped up, considering the irony of it all. "How could he forget about his family?" Feeling defeated, she sucked in another trembling breath. "And how come they couldn't find another judge to, you know, help families?"

"Oh, honey…I wish I had an answer for you. I really do," Stef replied honestly. "It's so disappointing." Her daughter was definitely a girl after her own heart and she could appreciate how upset Callie was. Callie had gone out on a limb to trust in a new narrative, only to be let down again.

Catching sight of Jude's hand reaching for Callie's, she gave him a sad smile. He looked shell shocked. "How are you doing, Bud?"

Predictably, her son's first inclination was to shrug. "Sometimes people make mistakes and forget stuff, and that's okay. Because it happens," he said, sounding the most mature they'd probably ever heard him. "But I'm mad. Like really mad. Because, the judge promised that day and people have to keep their promises. He should have to live with his mistake and do our adoption, anyway!" he said boldly. Perhaps knowing he'd gone too far, his throat bobbed with a gulp.

Stef understood his frustration. But while she'd been fuming mere moments ago, the necessity to teach forgiveness and empathy now shoved it out of the way. "Mistakes do happen, I agree with you there. But I don't think it's okay that the judge's son miss out on having his Dad there for his graduation because his Dad forgot. Do you?" She peered at him from where he was sitting behind Callie. "It's not his fault," she said, hoping she'd made her point clear.

"Guess not," Jude eventually mumbled.

Wanting to redirect their conversation, Lena bent over her children. She tapped Jude on the back, gathering her arms around him when he turned around. "Do you remember what happens on that day?"

The boy sniffled as he nodded into her hair, taking his time before answering. They'd talked about it a lot. Together, all four of them...as a family with all his new brothers and sisters...and then some nights him and Lena, or him and Stef before bed. "We have to say hi to the lawyer and then we go through the metal detector to make sure everyone's safe. We get to walk in together, then me and Callie sit at the table in front with the lawyer, and you and Mom sit behind us. Then the judge comes in and we stand, and say our names and that we're gonna tell the truth."

Lena suppressed a smile at his enthusiasm. "That's perfect. Callie's turn now," she said, prompting her daughter to turn towards her. "What else after that?"

"Mm, the lawyer and the judge will ask you and Mom questions to make a case for why it's good we stay together forever. Then it's mine and Jude's turn. The questions aren't hard or anything," she said, relieved they'd already reviewed some of the questions with Bill. "Then he signs a bunch of stuff and reads something official about our family and our new last name." She couldn't help but grin at that. Becoming an official Adams Foster was going to be pretty awesome. She already felt like they were part of the family but something about changing it felt like she could get a fresh start. "Then we take photos, and go home for the party."

Lena had to smile at Callie referring to the adoption decree as a _bunch of stuff_. "Beautiful job, you two. Could I get a hug?" She brought them into her arms as they slid off their stools simultaneously, placing a kiss on each on their temples. As a parent, the validation that they were needed never got old. "As you can see, the day is going to be the same even though it's on a different date," she pointed out. The change was a big deal but these kids needed hope. "Do you have any questions about Adoption Day?"

"But, people..." Callie began before trailing off. Worried her foster moms would be mad at her for undermining their efforts to cheer Jude up, she played with the ends of Lena's hair. Some parts of it were so tightly coiled that it looked like a hair roller. Her Mom used to get curly hair, too, whenever she'd let it grow long enough, but not like this.

Lena squeezed her forearm, bringing her back to the present. "You can ask us anything, you know that right?"

Callie shook her head, feeling shy all of a sudden. Feeling a tap on her arm, she glanced at her Mom.

"What is it that you want to ask, honey?" Stef asked. She took Callie's vacated spot as Lena took Jude's, helping the boy onto her lap.

"But Grandma...Grandma isn't gonna be able to come anymore, though, right?" Callie said plaintively as she, too, climbed up so she could perch on Stef's thigh. They'd all talked about how guests would be arriving earlier in the week to help with last minute errands for the two parties—one at the courthouse immediately following, and the other that night at the house—before flying out before the end of the weekend to existing commitments.

Stef stared, both impressed and flabbergasted. These kids had really taken to her mother. They'd spoken to her twice by phone in the last week. The conversations had been brief, but the building blocks of the new relationship were slowly being cemented in. She and Lena were excited for the two of them to spend more time with Lena's parents, as well as Jenna and Kelly, feeling confident it'd be a positive experience.

"Baby, she wouldn't miss it for the world. Neither would anyone else. Adoption Day is a huge deal!" She was certain that their family and friends who were planning to come would still be arriving, regardless of the switch in dates.

"It's probably gonna get moved around again," Callie said despondently, finding a hangnail to chew. By this stage in her life she'd learned she had no control over these things so it was best not to get her hopes up again. Because she had this time, and that was why this stung so much.

The cop sighed. Callie had had to deal with so much going wrong in her life and being repeatedly let down that her worry about this needed to be validated and heard. "Cal, this is truly unprecedented; hearing dates don't usually change. So I don't think it will happen again. If it does, we'll cross that bridge together and get through it." She knew it wouldn't be as easy as throwing a placating answer Callie's way when the girl regarded her with dubiousness.

"What's un—presented—ed mean?" Jude interjected, immediately worried.

Callie laughed and slapped him on the arm. "It means unusual. Not that you don't get presents, silly."

Stef scoffed at the presumptuousness. Jude couldn't stop talking about gifts ever since Dana had mentioned it, which was why she and Lena had preferred to keep them a surprise. "Your sister is right, baby. Court dates don't change very often, so the chance of that happening again is very small."

"Can we still have cake?" Jude inquired, moving on now that the important matter of gifts had been settled.

Lena chuckled at her son's tendency to have his priorities straight. "We will still have cake. Thank you for reminding me. I will call the bakery and ask to have it ready for the new date." A reception with family and friends was planned at the house for right after, with celebrations to lead into presents and dinner. They anticipated being rushed out of the courthouse as soon as the orders were in their hands to accommodate the other hearings scheduled for that afternoon.

"Now, which one of you would like write something on the calendar for our new Adoption Day?" she asked, reaching for a pen. She was unsurprised when Callie shook her head. "That's okay. Jude?" she encouraged, wanting to have them participate in something that symbolized their big day would still come. "Why don't you draw something to remind us?"

Callie held her breath; Jude was going to jinx it all. Personally, she didn't want to write anything down in case things fell through again. She wished she could tell him not to but he was her little brother and she didn't have to heart to stop him when he was so excited. Feeling Stef's arms behind her, she leaned back, allowing herself to be hugged.

Jude bit the end of the pen, deliberating what to do. "I kinda want to draw a cake, 'cause the eighteenth is super special," he whispered. He struggled with the outline of a flattened cylinder before asking her. "—I can't draw," he said, discouraged. "Can you help me Callie? Please?"

" _Fiiiine_ ," Callie said, reluctantly accepting the pen. If they got adopted on that day, it _would_ be pretty special. She hadn't brought it up because she didn't think Jude would remember.

"Buddy! We're going to have cake, I promise! Trust me, Mama is not going to forget!" Stef teased, shaking her head. They were treat-obsessed, much to her joy and Lena's dismay. But even Lena let go of her rules when it came to celebrating milestones. Cake was a big deal in their home; one on each of their birthdays, plus another on the twins' Gotcha Day—the anniversary of their adoption finalization. She fell silent as Lena held up a finger and nodded towards the candles Callie was working on. Complete with icing and small inky flowers along the side, with candles on top, this was a birthday cake.

She gasped as Callie shifted against her leg and the girl's hip bone painfully jutted into her femur as she got up to stand over the calendar. "Eighteenth is Mama's birthday," Jude explained as his sister worked on drawing the flames. "Draw _more_!" he bossed excitably.

"Don't think we're gonna get all of them. She'd be getting up there by now, you know," his sister said.

Lena burst into a laugh as Stef's eyes bugged out at their daughter's comment. According to the children's birth certificates, Colleen had been in her early twenties when Callie had been born, so approximating her age was easy. "Sweetheart, she wouldn't even be forty this year," she said, trying to keep serious when Callie stared at her incredulously.

"Well _exactly_ , Mama. She was over thirty already, and _she_ said when _she_ turned thirty-one that she was getting up there, 'cause that was more than halfway to sixty! And that was when she started her count to sixty, so the number of candles on her cake was gonna be her age minus thirty." She remembered Mom's last birthday before she died. Dad had bought a cake and she and Jude helped her blow out the one candle.

Scandalized, Stef's mouth fell open. Owe it to Callie (or rather, Colleen) to make her self-conscious about her age. "Honey, both Mama and I are over forty. And I happen to like all my candles on my cake, every single one. Now what would your Mom have to say about that, hm?"

"Mm...she probably would've said that you need a pretty big cake then to hold all the candles," Callie supplied casually, smirking as her foster mom feigned insult. It was so easy to get under her skin.

Stef grabbed a notebook off the table, rolling it up tight and wagging it at her daughter in warning. "Careful."

Callie grinned cheekily, unable to help herself. Stef had left herself wide open! "Also, if you're not fast enough your cake might burn up before you get around to blowing out all of them." She looked past Lena, making sure there was a clear escape path because once she said the next thing on her mind she'd have to run. "Because lung capacity changes with age and you do get more out of breath as you get old, you know," she added before trying to dart behind her Mama.

"Smart _mouth_!" Stef admonished as she sprung out of her chair faster than her daughter could react. Catching Callie by the arm, she popped her on the tush as both children shrieked with laughter. " _Smart_! _Mouth_! And now I know where you get it from, too!"

It was times like these that felt like Colleen Jacob was around. Keeping an eye on things.

Making sure they were okay.


	51. New Ways of Doing Things

**Author Note:**

Two years, everyone! Thanks to all of you who have stuck with the story. It's turned out to be such a labour of love, between all the suggestions and friendships with readers and other writers alike.

As always, thank you to **theypreferthetermpeople** for polishing things up. Happy reading! ~b

(My apologies for being terrible at responding to PMs lately; I'm still here and appreciate each and every one of your messages and reviews.)

* * *

 **Chapter 49:** New Ways of Doing Things

With two supportive Moms and the excitement of their soon-to-be legal siblings, the initial sting of disappointment over the delayed adoption eventually faded. But soon, Callie found a new and unexpected sadness beginning to cloud over. Even though she looked forward to officially having a family to finally call her own and a safe place to go home to at the end of each day, it was the recognition that adoption meant that some things would actually get taken _away_ that caught her off guard.

Like the last visit from Bill. She hadn't known it'd be the last one when he took them on an outing to the beach park where they ate tornado potatoes and nacho rounds that came with a pot of melted cheese. It was an activity they'd talked about doing before but had never gotten to. When he explained that that was it for home visits and that the next time they saw each other would be at the hearing, that was hard. Obviously, they wouldn't need a Case Manager anymore...but it hadn't occurred to her before. And she hadn't expected to be overwhelmed with a feeling of loss. Bill had been in their lives the entire time they'd been in foster care and now he wouldn't. She hadn't always liked his decisions but he cared a whole lot more than others she'd heard stories of.

Whenever ideas she had held onto for as long as she could remember were taken away, it was always another reminder that her world was fragile. What others might see as random, unimportant details had become pillars that brought some certainty over the years in foster care—helping her through difficult days, giving her something to look forward to. Having them erased and reconfigured brought a new type of instability that she didn't like.

Those days were hard.

* * *

"Is Mama in this one?" Jude flicked the photo he'd been looking at towards his sister. It was just the two of them and Stef and Lena today. Everyone else was out, and he was enjoying how quiet and not crazy the house was. They had the family room to themselves; he and Callie had been playing Monopoly before getting bored and deciding to crack open some of the smaller photo albums.

"Hold up," Callie said. Jude had missed by a long shot. Using her arms, she propelled herself across the rug on her belly. She was balancing a green cushion on the small on her back, finding the light pressure comforting. After Lena came by and commented that she looked like a sea turtle, she liked it even more.

Reaching up onto the coffee table on the way, she fumbled for an Oreo. The purchase had been a rare allowance on Lena's part from their outing to the store that morning. Both she and Jude had gone with her and they'd spent the entire time begging her for foods they knew she would find obnoxious, like canned spaghetti and cheese cracker sandwiches. Fingers closing around the hard earned prize, she parked herself on her elbows in front of the photo, getting straight to work twisting the top off and licking the icing.

"Oh, _wow_! They look super young," Callie breathed. It was an old shot of their Mom and Dad with their friends, long before she and Jude existed. They were all piled onto the back bumper of a blue Firebird, each with a beer in hand and a smoke between their fingers. "That car belonged to Mom's best friend's boyfriend. They all lived together. She always said that it got totalled like a month after they took this photo," she explained. Their parents had been high school sweethearts and had moved in together with three of their friends once they could make their share of the rent. Dad, who had already graduated by then, had moved in first. Mom still had another year or so to go when things got to be too much at home and she joined them. Shortly after, she dropped out.

Growing up, Callie had heard her fair share of stories of life in that house. There'd been five of them renting the bungalow: each couple took a room, and their single friend had the pull out bed in the living room. Together, they managed the suite together, leaning on each other through burnt dinners, ruined laundry, and unsteady work that often left them scrambling for food and rent. Mom and Dad only moved out a few months before she was born. She vaguely recalled these people coming by to hang out with her, too, while Mom did her GED. Part of the reason why she remembered talking with her Mom about this specific photo was because it always came with reminders about the importance of not smoking, drinking, or dropping out. Their conversation always ended with that GED. Her Mom would tell her that she regretted not finishing high school while she had fewer responsibilities it was hard to go back to do something she should've done in the first place. Mom would make her promise to graduate _—_ saying that she didn't care if Callie was already moved out, but that diploma needed to happen.

She popped the two cookie halves, now clean to her liking, into her mouth. "Look how big Mama's hair was," she said in between chews. With teased bangs, bangles on her wrist, and round sunglasses, their Mom looked _cool_.

"Mama was pretty," Jude remarked. It was weird that he only knew her through photos and stories from Callie. He was only three when she'd died, so he didn't have memories of her at all.

"Yeah she was, Bud." Callie had looked up to her and still did. Old photos were her favourites, especially those from before she and Jude were born. Not only did she get to see what her parents were like then, but it gave her a chance to imagine what her life could look like in just a few years. _She_ could move out with friends and have the same experiences as they had, making her own way through life.

Needing more Oreos, she turned over, letting the cushion flop off. "I can't wait until I can do that."

"Can't wait to do what, my love?" Stef asked as she and Lena came in with healthier snacks. "Aw, I guess the sea turtle went back to the ocean." She'd missed the opportunity to see their daughter goofing off like a normal kid. Her disappointment didn't last long as she saw the photo album amidst the Monopoly pieces strewn over the rug. Callie and Jude finding joy in the photos of their birth family always warmed her heart. It'd been tumultuous at first, but she appreciated getting a glimpse into what their children's lives with Colleen and Donald had been like before being catapulted into the chaos of foster care.

"Huh?" Callie replied automatically before processing the question. "Oh, move out."

"Move out?" Stef repeated, unable to hide her surprise. They'd barely gotten the kids! In fact, they were knee deep in preparations and Callie and Jude seemed so excited. She had no idea Callie wanted to move out.

The girl pointed at the photo. "Yeah. Mom moved out when she was sixteen to live with Dad and a bunch of their friends, and when I'm sixteen, Bill said I could try for Independent Living," she said absentmindedly.

"Oh…sweetheart…" Lena said, knowing they would have to be careful with their response. There were a couple issues at play. One was that Callie hadn't grasped she wouldn't be eligible for the program once adopted. Like the time Jude had assumed they'd go live with their Dad after the completion of his sentence, when it hadn't clicked for him that adoption would preclude that choice. Arguably, however, the bigger issue was that Callie's plan was tied to wanting to follow in her Mom's footsteps. Lena wasn't going to touch that right now, not if it could be avoided. Setting the plate on the ottoman, she sat on the floor beside her daughter, her back against the couch. Stef followed suit and took the armchair over by Jude. "When did you and Bill talk about Independent Living?" She hoped to lead Callie to her own conclusion rather than dropping it onto her. She tucked a flyaway behind her daughter's ear as Callie helped herself to a cucumber and hummus. .

"Mm…I dunno. Maybe like a year ago?" Callie replied honestly. That'd been the plan if DSS couldn't get her placed. She had her mind set after the topic had come up and imagined moving out with a bunch of girls at a group home if that was where she ended up, or meeting people at school if she could be at a placement long enough to make those connections. She'd find a job, save up. Once she had enough to handle her own place, she'd get custody of Jude so he'd have a stable home throughout high school. It'd be hard, but nothing she couldn't handle. They'd be happy.

"Okay. A year ago," Lena repeated.

It was Jude who finally asked the question that would bring the two aspects of his and Callie's lives—before adoption and after—into collision. "Can you still do Independent Living if you get adopted?"

"Oh. Guess not," Callie said, frowning. She hadn't thought about that and was stunned by her own disappointment. "I could still move out though."

Lena shared a sensitive look with Stef as that hope was dashed and their daughter attempted not to let it get to her. Neither of them had missed the momentary hurt. "It's something we'll have to talk about," she offered, wanting to set that boundary early on. She had never fathomed any of their children leaving home before it was time for college. Technically, as parents, they could always cosign a lease for them; however neither she nor Stef would ever allow that so it was a moot point.

Callie's expression darkened. She was sure the answer was no, then. In this house, _we'll see_ or _we'll talk_ always meant no. If it was a yes, they said so right away. "Mama moved out at sixteen," she repeated.

There'd been a lot of this lately, them not letting her do things she'd done with her Mom. Like when Lena wouldn't let her watch Darkwater because she was uncomfortable with the rating, even though she'd already seen parts of the Japanese version with her Mom. Or when she couldn't have the snacks she missed from home. At first it'd been annoying; now, even little things felt like slights.

Despite her wife's effort at being noncommittal, judging by their daughter's body language, Lena had hit a nerve. "Well, things were probably a bit different then for your Mom, love," Stef said, trying to diffuse the escalation she was expecting would take place.

"How were they different?"

"Okay, for starters, Mom and I would like to see you finish twelfth grade and be able to vote before you move out," Lena explained. She had not planned on having this discussion now, but here they were.

"Mama moved first, then got her GED," Callie said. She'd already promised Mom she'd graduate so this wasn't an issue.

"That's wonderful she decided to go for her GED. It's not easy," Stef acknowledged. "There's no one right way...but Callie, that's not what Mama and I want for you."

Callie looked at her foster mom, unable to help but feel offended; obviously they didn't approve of her Mom. "But what about what I want? Or what my Mom wanted for me? And what does graduating or voting even have to do with this?" she pushed, genuinely confused by their conditions. She'd wanted this even before the whole Independent Living thing, but more so after her experiences in the system.

Feeling the tantrum as well as a headache brewing, Stef let out an inward sigh. Their quiet morning was heading into derailment. Callie was an extremely perceptive child who, having picked up on their reservations, would not let them get out of this one easily.

She and Lena were not opposed to their kids moving out by any means, but they did want to ensure that when they did take that step, they were _ready,_ rather than having to return because they'd left too early. At one point she'd even entertained the idea of converting their garage into a loft to support their kids as an in-between before the real deal. She leaned over, wrapping both arms around her son and kissing him on the head. Jude was equally perceptive and, increasingly uncomfortable with the tension between them, had scooched back on the floor until he was sitting between her legs. "It's a lot of responsibility and work to live on your own, love. You'd have to learn to budget and pay bills, cook and clean. Do laundry. To have to do all that, when you could just be focusing on school and looking at colleges could get to be a lot, don't you think?" she reasoned, hoping to get agreement. She had done that too, too young, and it'd been no walk in the park.

Anger flashed across her thirteen-year-old's face. She should've known it wasn't going to be that easy.

"So you're not _letting_ me?"

Lena winced at the challenge, uttered a little too quietly. Callie was barely keeping it together.

"Because...you don't _trust me_?" Callie said with disgust in her voice. Stef had given her a list of reasons why she thought she couldn't do it. She smacked her hand on the coffee table as she stood. "That's what it is, isn't it? You don't think I can do it."

"It's not about trust, or capability, baby girl. It really isn't," Stef began, though truthfully there was a bit of that. Her daughter, who couldn't shower on her own, was not in any way prepared to live on her own. One day, yes, she would be, hopefully when she was eighteen. Stef couldn't see it happening any sooner than then—definitely not three years from now as Callie was hoping.

"So what's it about then?" Callie snapped as frustrated tears welled. Inside, the ache from having something she'd relied upon to get through each horrible day ripped away throbbed until it became a raging storm. Not only that, but to be told she couldn't do what her Mom had essentially given her permission to do felt like a slap in the face of what they'd shared.

She was fully aware of their answer when neither of her Moms responded. "Whatever," she scoffed, pretending it didn't hurt that two people who she looked up to didn't have faith in her. "Not like you can stop me," she muttered as she crossed her arms against her chest defiantly. No way would she let anyone stand in her way. She already had enough for a few months rent. Once she got a job, she'd be able to manage her expenses without having to dig into savings.

" _Excuse_ me?" Stef said, her tone low with warning. She was frustrated by her daughter's insolence, which had been slowly returning as she became more comfortable around them. "Callie. We are your parents and most certainly will stop you from doing something that isn't in your best interest." It wasn't what Callie wanted to hear, but there was no point in giving the impression they would budge on this. She was uncomfortable with any of her children out of her home before they were of legal age, especially Callie, who needed hard limits and firm guidance.

Lena glared at her wife. Stef's protectiveness was well-meaning, but that was equivalent to pouring gasoline over the fire.

"But—but that's total _bull_! How can you say it's not in my best interest?" Callie demanded, her voice rising an octave as emotion took over. "You just shut it down without even giving it a chance! How is that fair?" She was intentionally provoking them because deep down, she knew they could stop her. They could forbid her from working. Hell, even if she managed to get a job without their permission, they could make her quit once they found out. If she refused, they'd take things away. The knowledge that there'd be no way to convince them otherwise made her feel helpless.

"You know what? Think what you want!" she retorted. "I don't care! Because you _don't_ know what's best for me!" If they didn't consider her feelings in this, she sure as hell wasn't going to think about theirs. Of course, that was a lie. It really got to her that they didn't see how important this was. They didn't care this was something she'd wanted for a long time—something her Mom had given her blessing to, and Bill had even recommended for her.

Fury began to enmesh with sadness at the recognition of yet another loss. " _I do_! _I_ know what's best for me! And my _Mom_ did too." Her Mom had always been supportive whenever they'd talked about it.

"Okay. Okay. That's enough," Lena said gently, holding out her palms in resignation to try and calm things down before they got too out of hand. She stood up, wondering if Callie would accept a hug from her.

"No! You can't do that," Callie continued to argue, despite struggling to find words to why she felt so rotten. "You're not allowed to show up and change everything," she sputtered as the lump in her throat grew. "You're not allowed to—to take something that's important to me away—like _SHE'S_ not important and what _she_ said doesn't count! Because it does count. 'Cause we were with her first, before you guys. You can't push her out of the picture like she doesn't matter and what we planned on doing doesn't matter!" Her breath hitched and pent up tears streamed down her face.

Stef's heart stopped at the interpretation. "Callie. We are not pushing your Mom out—"

"You _ARE_!" Reeling from grief and anger, Callie said the most hurtful thing that came to mind. "And you can't do that because you're not my real Moms!"

Stef closed her eyes and blew out a breath as tears pricked her eyes. _Yeah, Callie had gone there_. She had gone there before and she expected it to come up here and there but that never prepared her for how much of a punch to the gut the words were. About to rebuke her, she stopped herself, realizing that anything she tried to say at this point would go unheard. In her arms, Jude fidgeted nervously. Giving him another squeeze, she helped him stand up and sent him towards the kitchen. "Why don't you go get yourself another snack, bud? Mama and I need to talk to Callie for a moment."

The boy chewed his lip as his gaze flitted towards his sister before returning to meet his Mom's. He didn't want to leave her in case anything happened…but he knew it was just a fear. Nothing would happen.

"Go ahead, Jude. Everything will be okay," Stef reassured. She watched him swallow as he tried to reconcile the conflict between what he thought he needed to do with what was being asked of him.

Seeing his turmoil and not wanting two children melting down, Lena extended her hand towards him, grateful when he accepted. "Let's go get something to eat."

For a moment, Stef thought she saw a flicker of remorse cross Callie's face as their son left with Lena. But just like that, it was gone. "Callie?" she began, willing to give her another chance. "Alright. Then you need to go upstairs," she said, withdrawing it when the girl shook her head petulantly.

"No way." Callie had had enough of being pushed around.

"I'm not asking, my love," the mother said, her voice stern and gentle all at once. Callie didn't want to talk; she wanted to fight. Stef wasn't going to play that game. If a constructive discussion wasn't in the cards then her daughter needed a cool down. All of them did. She was fully prepared to carry her upstairs if she had to ensure follow through.

"It's my choice!"

"It is your choice. You can go to your own bedroom or ours. But you walk yourself upstairs right now or I will be taking you—up to you. Make the good choice Mama and I know you are capable of."

" _No_!" Smug and cocky at what she thought was her decision until it was taken away. " _NO_! You're _NOT MY REAL MOM_. YOU'RE _NOT_!" she lashed out when she felt Stef's grip on her arm tug her towards the stairwell. Swept away in the depths of a tantrum now, she dug her feet onto the rug and clawed at the woman's arm to get her to let her go. Stef didn't like what she had to say so she was punishing her.

As hard as it was, Stef held firm and ignored her daughter's protests. After a painful boot to her ankle, she caught Callie's other arm and in one swift move, turned the girl to face her. "THAT is _ENOUGH_!" she said sharply, raising her voice more than she intended. Shame immediately flooded her at her broken promise to herself not to engage when Callie recoiled and a chair leg screeched against tiles. _Jude_. There was an awful silence before high pitched cries could be heard from the kitchen, along with Lena's efforts to console their son.

Trying to collect herself so she could finish what she had started, she held Callie by the shoulders and lowered her voice. "I hear that you are upset, but your behaviour is unacceptable and needs to stop now. We may not be your biological parents, but you are being incredibly hurtful with your words and you know better than to act this way." Perhaps shocked by the admonishment, Callie stopped fighting and allowed herself to be walked up to the master bedroom.

Motioning to the foot of their bed from the landing, Stef issued a reminder of the rules that had been broken. She found herself getting increasingly annoyed with her child, who was near hysterical over what was a minor consequence relative to the behaviour that had earned it to begin with.

"Five minutes, Callie. You are not to leave this spot. If you do, the time starts again," she said sternly, willing herself patience. She blinked back her own tears as she set the timer on her phone. It hurt to discipline when a child was acting up out of their own hurt."I want you to work on your breathing and expect you to participate in a productive conversation when Mama and I come in. Time starts now."

Without considering what she was doing, Stef swung the door close. She would leave a couple inches of space, but she really needed a physical barrier to discuss things in private with Lena. Catching a glimpse as fury gave way to fear, she stood with her back against the wall, steeling her resolve as Callie screamed and cried out her frustration. Not long after, bare feet slapping against the hardwood approached. There was a pause, then a shadow of brown curls and anxious eyes appeared in the gap of the open door.

Stef took a deep breath at the muted panic, knowing exactly what was wrong. Callie had thought she was being locked inside—something she had once mentioned in passing that a previous foster parent would do. Clearing her throat, Stef slowly pushed open the door and guided the girl back to her spot. "You're sitting here because you were shouting and using hurtful language when you became angry. That behaviour is not acceptable," she said sternly. She worried Callie would resent her for the time out, but felt there was little choice but to follow through at this point. "Five minutes begin again. The door will stay open and we will come back as soon as it's over, but you need to stay where you are," she explained hoarsely. "You'll be okay."

Still, it broke her heart to walk out onto the landing a second time and ignore the sound of Callie pummelling the bed frame as it echoed down the hallway. Cursing under her breath for choosing a time out, Stef vowed never to use it again because _this_ wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth Callie hurting herself when she got so mad and upset that she couldn't cope. Sitting on the bottom step beside her wife, Lena's arms around her, they made a mutual decision to wait until time was up. They knew this was what Callie needed right now, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Jude okay?" Stef questioned. Chest heaving from the adrenaline, she was grateful to have Lena there, because she had seriously considered running back up there to comfort her kid.

"He's alright. Having second breakfast in the den." After many assurances that no one would hurt his sister, Lena had managed to coax him into hanging out there where it'd be quieter. While circumstances had dictated she and Stef having to split up to tend separately to the siblings, overhearing the exchange between Stef and Callie had left her crushed. Her poor girl. Slowly, they were figuring her out but times like this were reminders that they still had a ways to go.

"That blew up quick," Stef began before Lena could say anything. "I probably should've been to be more careful in how I responded when she said she was going to move out." She let out an exasperated breath she wasn't even aware she'd been holding in, needing to own this. "Lena, all I could think of was that we don't even legally have her yet. And here she is, talking about leaving home already. Leaving less than three years from now, and I got my back up, you know? She can't even clean herself properly," she said in an undertone, ensuring her thoughts on the matter remained between them.

"Honestly? I'm not sure that we could've phrased things in a way that would have significantly changed the outcome," Lena replied. Callie had been looking for a fight. "I understand where you're coming from, babe. I feel the same way. But you know, it's not really about her wanting to leave us. The idea of moving out early was probably how she coped with foster care. It was her way out. Plus, it's about getting to do what Colleen did so she can keep her close."

Stef shook her head, disagreeing although she understood. "And I get that, but at the same time, Lena...she needs to be taken care of. She needs to be raised." All children needed and deserved that, and Callie was no different.

"I completely agree with you. But to be fair, she doesn't know that. Bill basically gave her the okay when he brought up Independent Living, and it sounds like her Mom might have as well."

"Doesn't know or doesn't care?" the cop asked, skeptical.

"She doesn't know, Stef," Lena replied. Sometimes her wife made the mistake of assuming Callie was being intentionally difficult, when really she was just in a whole different phase in her development.

She placed a hand on Stef's knee. "What were you thinking with the time out?" she pointed out gently. There was no accusation in her tone; she was simply curious why Stef had chosen that route when they had decided not to.

"They don't work with her. I know," Stef answered. "Mostly, I forgot. Then I couldn't back out because I'd already told her that was what would happen." They only used this strategy with Jude, Mariana, and Brandon because all three of them responded to it, using the time to be introspective and consider what had gone wrong and what could've been done in hindsight. In contrast, Callie and Jesus would panic, rage, and try to get out of it. The lesson, if any, had to be spelled out and rarely stuck. She exhaled loudly. "I just..she can't treat us like that, Lena."

"She can't, and she will learn that in due time," Lena agreed. "She _is_ learning that. So much of what we're seeing is her processing her losses, trying to make sense of how it affects her life." It wasn't an excuse but an explanation.

Stef nodded. Glancing at the timer and seeing that it was almost finished, she stood up. Callie needed them.

They found her huddled on the floor in front of the bed, scaring them momentarily when they didn't see her right away. One arm was snaked around both of her knees, her head nestled in the safe space it offered. She didn't seem to notice them until Stef crouched in front of her and tapped her on the shoulder. The contact brought her back into the present. "Baby…" she murmured sympathetically, heart aching at Callie's swollen, red-rimmed eyes. She looked every bit as miserable as she probably felt in that moment.

"M—Mom," Callie hiccupped, staring at her dejectedly before moving in for a hug. She was relieved they'd come back.

"Shh. You're okay, Callie. You're safe. You are loved—so, so much." Stef consoled, gently rocking back and forth as her daughter shuddered through double breaths. "We didn't leave you." Fresh tears bloomed as she cradled wet cheeks between her palms.

"Are you okay?" she asked, relieved when her question elicited a nod from her thoroughly chastened child. Knees popping, she kissed Callie on the forehead before sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. Their daughter looked exhausted.

"Do you know why I needed you to spend some time in here by yourself?

"How come?" Stef prompted at the half hearted nod.

"Because you did—didn't like what I had to say and I was r—rude."

Stef frowned; Callie's answers didn't always demonstrate accountability, so she had expected some deflection. "That's a good start. We needed you to calm down too. How were you rude to Mama and I?"

Callie sniffled. "I said you weren't me and Jude's real Moms and I kicked you. And I was shouting." She looked down, embarrassed for the way she'd acted. "But…but I'm still _mad_ at you," she said brokenly. "Like really mad!" she repeated, slightly louder this time although whatever gusto she had earlier was gone. Even though she was still frustrated with them, she craved their comfort and protection.

"I know. And you're allowed to be. I'm sorry—"

Sadness and trepidation flitted back to anger, desperation, and hurt as Callie broke apart again. "No! I don't _want_ you to be _SORRY_! I want my _Mom_! I _w—want_ you to b—bring her _BACK! BRING HER BACK! BRING HER BACK!"_

Distress quickly brought demands to screaming, and Stef pulled her into her arms so her daughter did not have to weather her grief alone. She understood then, that this wasn't so much about them as it was Callie wanting her own mother. Callie had never begged for Colleen before, and it devastated her that this was something she couldn't make happen. "Oh…baby. You know I would give you anything I could but that is one thing I can't do. I'm sorry," she murmured, rubbing her back. "I'm so sorry she was taken from you and Jude, and that I cannot bring her back to you. I know you're missing her so much right now."

When she felt calmer, Callie tried again to put words to why she was hurting. "If you c _—_ can't bring her back, c _—_ can y _—_ you not take me away from h _—_ her?" She drew in a shaky breath, feeling more courageous to go on. Ever since she'd come to live here, Stef and Lena had taken her further from everything that was familiar. "Because I d _—_ don't like it, when you do that. E _—_ Everything is different a _—_ and you're gonna make me forget her," she whimpered.

Lena's breath caught at the accusation. Suddenly, their daughter's earlier complaint that they couldn't 'show up and change everything' made sense. There was a status quo with her Mom, and she and Stef hadn't been as respectful of it as they thought they'd been. "Is that what it feels like when Mom and I tell you to do something that's different from how your Mom would've done things? Like we're taking her away from you?" she questioned, welling up at how their communication had been perceived. "Like she doesn't matter?"

Callie nodded before erupting into a coughing fit.

Bringing over the Kleenex, Lena dried her daughter's tears and helped her blow her nose. "I can see why it would feel that way, sweetheart. It's not what we mean to do; you know that, right?" She was thankful that Callie was starting to regain control over her emotions, because it enabled her to talk. "Your Mom...she means as much to Mom and I as she does to you, even though it's not the same way. Without her, there'd be no you...or Jude."

"I don't want to forget her. The time I lived with her still matters to me," Callie said..

"Oh, honey...your life with her matters so much. Mama and I never meant to suggest otherwise," Stef emphasized.

Callie frowned as she considered for a moment how she'd arrived to that conclusion. "But you sorta said it didn't, when you said I couldn't do what she already said I could," she said cautiously. "You took that away." _Just like that, something the two of them had shared was gone_. "I really don't want you to take it away, Mom, Mama. Please?" she begged, getting upset all over again. "Please don't take it away." They'd talked about it so many times that being able to do the same one day would be incredibly special.

Stef shared a sad smile with Lena as she held onto their daughter. Callie had actually started communicating, rather than bottling up her feelings. The leap in maturity level had been amazing, even though there was still much acting up.

"What exactly did your Mom say about moving out?" Lena asked, having the sense to clarify.

Voice nearly shot from prolonged crying and screaming, Callie's reply was hoarse. "She said I could when I was at least sixteen, as long as I'd be able to pay for it on my own and promise to finish my senior year."

Relief filled both Moms upon hearing the qualifiers Colleen had placed on her daughter leaving home, though they were still unsure about how to honour their agreement in an age appropriate way. It was a harsh concept—one to be saved for discussion another day and over the years to come. That while they wanted her to do as many of the things she'd talked about with her birth mother, she also had to accept that that didn't preclude their ability as parents to establish boundaries and expectations around the same topics.

"I think your Mom knew you well enough to know when the time came, you could absolutely make it on your own. She's right. It's a wonderful goal when you're old enough, and can manage everything else you need to, like pay for your expenses and complete your education. Mom and I are in full support of all of that," Lena began. They had been quick to learn that Colleen had more of a laid back approach to parenting compared to theirs. In spite of their differences, however, she and Stef would need to ally with her to earn Callie's respect. "We might not agree on every little detail—let me finish—but we don't have to, to want the same things for you," she explained, hoping their daughter would be easier to reason with following the exhaustion from their fight.

"Does that make sense? That we actually want the same things as what your Mom wanted for you?" Stef tried. She was a bit nervous to set Callie off again, but was convinced this needed to be laid out sooner than later.

"But I don't want anything to be different. I want it to be the same," Callie said quietly, picking up on their loophole. She was old enough to understand where her foster moms were coming from. And it was hard to deny their warmth and concern, but all of this still felt like a dismissal of what she'd had with her Mom.

Sighing, Stef gave her child a pointed look before maneuvering the both of them around so their backs were against the bed. Callie immediately curled up against her and held on. It was hard to stay upset at her daughter's stubbornness for too long. Of course, she sympathized with why Callie wanted things to stay the same. So much about their lives were different; it was only natural that she would want to hold on to anything and everything that she could.

"Is that what you were trying to tell us downstairs?" Stef asked, referring to the tirade about she and Lena coming between Callie and her Mom. "When you said Mama and I don't get a say if it's something you and your Mom have already discussed? That you'd go ahead with it anyways, because...we're not your real Moms?" Even making reference to those awful words that had lashed out at them brought a lump to her throat. Feeling goosebumps on the girl's arm, she grabbed the throw off the bed and draped it over them.

Shy all of a sudden, Callie didn't say anything, content to just listen. "Because, that's not fair to us, either," Stef continued, wrapping her arms around her daughter. It'd been something she'd held onto for a long time, afraid to be honest about; however, it was time to acknowledge their feelings, because this wasn't okay with them. She and Lena accepted they'd always be second to Colleen—they were, in many ways. But they also needed space to parent. They weren't her birth moms but that didn't mean they weren't her real parents, either.

"We're trying to do our very best to raise you the way your Mom would've wanted for you. And it's hard, because we can't call her and ask, hey? We're not trying to push her out of the picture or replace her. Or make you feel like the relationship you two shared wasn't important, baby. I promise you that cannot be further from the truth."

Callie's gaze fell into her lap as she fiddled with the large tassels lining the edge of the throw. She was embarrassed over how she'd acted during their fight. It'd been awhile since she'd used that card against them, and it was mean. "Yeah. I just...I just felt so mad inside," she admitted with a whisper.

Stef cleared her throat, fighting to keep composure. "We could see that. Do you think next time you could tell us with the words you just used, instead of the ones before or showing us how mad you can get?"

Appreciating the closeness, Callie nodded against her foster mom's chest.

"Can we get an agreement from you on not using language like that again?"

"Yes, Mom. Okay," Callie mumbled, vowing to behave better. "But, Mo— _om_ ," she said, inflection turning it into a question. "I didn't know that that was what I wanted to say. When I got mad, I mean."

That was the truth. She hadn't fully understood all the reasons she'd been so angry until they talked. What seemed so simple now to put in words had been impossible earlier. It had been impossible to speak about something she didn't even know what bothering her.

"Thank you for your honesty, Callie." Another moment passed before Stef spoke up. "I think I owe you an apology. Living on your own is something you've wanted for a long time, and it was unkind of me to focus on all the things that make it hard." In doing so, she'd inadvertently sent the message that she didn't have confidence in Callie's ability to carry out those tasks. "When you're ready, there will be nothing you can't handle. I believe that one hundred percent"

In hindsight, it was easy to see that Callie cared a lot about what they thought of her and how desperately she sought their approval. She had only known Colleen's support, and had been deprived of it for so long while in foster care that the idea of people having her back was a novelty.

Stef ducked her head to catch her daughter's gaze so she could make sure she was being heard. "I think, I worry about you. I worry because Mama and I haven't had you for very long and I was surprised to hear you talking about moving. I don't want you to go away because I like having you here with us," she admitted. "But I shouldn't have dismissed something important to you that easily, and I'm very sorry I did that," she continued, regretting how quickly she'd quashed the goal. Callie deserved better.

Callie simply stared at the woman, not used to having adults apologize to her. Stef and Lena did truly care about her. No one else, apart from her own Mom, had taken the time to explain and own up to things they did wrong. "I'm not ungrateful, I swear," she whispered, letting her gaze flit up to briefly. "I like living with you guys."

Lena gave her daughter's knee a reassuring squeeze. "We would never think you were ungrateful for looking forward to growing up. Not for a second." She looked to Stef, wondering if she would be comfortable enough to open up about some aspects of her life from when she was younger.

"I actually left my parents' house the weekend after my own high school graduation," Stef shared, hoping the disclosure wouldn't bite her in the ass later. She saw a lot of herself in Callie. "I couldn't wait to get out. Mike and I found this dirt cheap apartment in a sketchy area of town. A few months later we started Police Academy." She chuckled softly, thinking about that time. They'd just been kids in the big city.

Callie pulled away to look up at her in awe. " _Really_? _You_ _left_ Grandma _Sharon_?"

Stef smiled kindly, having managed to capture the girl's attention with the revelation. Simple as that, her guard was down. "Yup. My parents…so, Grandma Sharon and Grandpa Frank, were going through their divorce then. Things were out of my control, Callie…kinda like it was for you these last five years." She paused, remembering how bereft and mixed up and terrifying things felt as her parents fought over custody and visitation.

"Moving out was my ticket out of all that chaos and upheaval. So, I get why you've been looking forward to it. Why it's something you can't wait to have in reach." She wished now that she hadn't castigated her the way she had. "Things have been pretty rough on you and Jude after your Mom died, and I get why you would want to be on your own as soon as you're able to. I would be fighting to get out if I were you, too. I _did_ fight to get out when I was around your age."

But while she shared the experience of living in unstable circumstances and empathized with Callie wanting to be in control of her own circumstances, she couldn't truly appreciate how hard it'd been for Callie. There had been plenty of fighting due to her parents' volatile relationship, but no physical violence or abuse of any kind. Money was tight, but there was never any uncertainty around if her needs would be met. Her Mom had always been there for her; she didn't have to be a parent to anyone. So she couldn't imagine how difficult and lonely it had to have been for Callie, to have dealt with all that and more, starting at eight years old. She hadn't gone through half of that and still had wanted to escape.

"You've been focused so much on surviving. I know in some homes you had to figure out pretty quickly how to be responsible for Jude all by yourself, and you did. You did so well taking care of both of you and we are incredibly proud of you for that."

She stopped, pressing a kiss onto Callie's hair. "But we want you and Jude to have the opportunity to thrive. Not only survive, but to grow in as many ways as you can. So please, just slow down a little," she urged.

"Please let Mama and I give you the childhood you deserve. Let us do that for you."


	52. A Fresh Perspective

**Author Note:**

I let this chapter sit awhile after its last edit, partly because of anxiety around posting but also because I had higher hopes for it. After giving it another read, it now feels right. A few places were sticking in earlier drafts but they've been smoothed out. Thank you to **theypreferthetermpeople** for working on it.

A reread of Chapter 49 might be helpful for continuity's sake. The events both unfold over the same day (previous chapter happened in the morning; this one in the evening).

I don't think I appreciated the strides Callie had made in this story until I started drafting short stories set before IUW began. Now that Callie has a voice, it's hard to take it away to have her return to the more reserved, internalizing version of herself we saw early on. Such is resilience!

As always, thank you for the support and happy reading. There's a small time jump ahead for the next and what will be the final chapter. ~b

* * *

 **Chapter 50** : A Fresh Perspective

Sleep evaded Callie that night as she kept going over the fight she'd had with her soon-to-be-adoptive Moms earlier in the day. It'd been awhile since she had used the fact they weren't biologically related against them and the guilt was eating her up inside—especially knowing if Mom was still around, how disappointed she would be with the way she'd treated them. She had regretted the words as soon as they tumbled from her mouth. Sure, they hadn't given birth to her but they loved her all the same and were the best thing to have happened since entering foster care. They were her Moms, no matter what the legal documents said.

Truth be told, she had thrown that in their faces simply because she wanted to hurt them. Later in the afternoon when she overheard Lena crying in the bathroom as Stef tried to talk her down, she realized she'd succeeded in doing just that.

Callie had wanted to apologize then, but the fear of not knowing what to say—or if they would even want to talk to her—won over her best intentions. The rest of their Sunday unfolded in the same way it always did, and the predictable routine only succeeded in fueling both guilt and relief. Moms checked her homework due the upcoming week for completeness, helped organize her binder, and ensured her agenda was up to date. Her standing invitation to help Lena with dinner remained open, as was time with the rest of the family. She'd treated them horribly, yet they still wanted her.

Upon reflection, she realized Stef had been right. Lashing out about them for not being her real Moms had been a cover for wanting her own Mom. Five years had gone by since she had died and today, the loss had hit her hard. Caught in the current of grief, she had pulled her new Moms in with her, making them pay. Reaching for the drawer on her nightstand, she quietly slid it open and felt around for the broken tape. She wished it still worked so that she could at least hear the Happy Birthday message from her Mom and pretend for a moment she was alive.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Callie's mind drifted to the night police had come to their apartment. Time had eroded memories of her life together with her Mom and Dad, but details of that evening were forever etched into her mind. Her parents had gone out and left them with a friend to babysit, and she had been pulling an all nighter to guilt her Mom into never leaving them again. Jude had just been snuck away into his crib when the buzzer ringing unexpectedly jarred him awake. Time sped up with the bustle of panic, then slowed as a policewoman knelt down in front of her, introducing herself with faraway words. Calling her sweetheart and asking for her name and Jude's name. Asking if she'd been helping take of him. Then Bill had showed up, and they told her there'd been an accident and that her Mom and Dad had been badly hurt, and her Mom hadn't made it. She remembered feeling numb, unable to react, as Jude screamed—the way she wished she could, but wasn't able to.

She figured she must've fallen asleep when she saw that the time on her bedside clock had jumped ahead and her heart pounded the way it often did when she fell asleep and woke up soon after. Stef always called it a 'second wind'.

The muffled hum of the TV from downstairs told her that Moms were still awake. They usually stayed up late after everyone else was in bed to watch a show or just hang out. It was one of the reasons why after lights out, they had to stay in their beds even if they weren't going to sleep. The bathroom was an exception. But guilt gnawing at her conscience urged her to make things right and finally forced her out of bed. She took her time putting on her socks and hoodie, deliberating her apology. Wanting her Mom close, she placed the broken cassette and its curly film into her front pocket before treading softly out onto the landing. Worried that Moms wouldn't want their time alone interrupted or that they'd want a break from her after she'd been awful to them, she waffled and turned back. She froze when the floorboard creaked loudly. Not ever having to worry about making too much noise at this house, she hadn't bothered to pay attention to where not to step.

Callie held her breath as the TV muted. Soon after, Stef called up. "Need something, Miss Callie?"

Busted.

"Crap…" she whispered, kicking herself for not having an excuse prepared. She was too far down the hallway for the bathroom, but couldn't say she was hungry, either, since she'd eaten a lot of bedtime snack.

Downstairs, Stef stifled a laugh as she elbowed her wife. They could tell from the bare ankles (a result of outgrown pajamas) and nervously light footsteps that it was Callie. All their other children would run when seeking them out at night. Even Jude, who had initially been reluctant to approach them when in need of help, now rushed into their room following a nightmare. Watching Callie step backwards then stall, obviously conflicted over what to do, brought a smile to her face.

"Stef! Don't!" Lena scolded, slapping her on the arm. She wished her wife wouldn't laugh at their daughter, although she too found Callie's uncertainty over being out of bed at this hour a bit ironic given her earlier behaviour. "Honey, we know it's you. You can come down," she reassured.

"We see those big feet of yours you'll be growing into," Stef teased, earning another playful slap. Her intention was to let Callie know they weren't mad at her. Their daughter had avoided them for the rest of the day.

Eventually, Callie made her way down the steps. Shame and shyness took over, forcing eyes downcast and leaving restless feet to shuffle inwards and out as she loitered at the foot of the stairwell.

Both women sat up, their attention immediately shifting to their daughter. "What's up, Bug?" Lena questioned. It was against nighttime rules for Callie to be out of bed, but she never sent any of their children back to their rooms if they needed them. And oh, did Callie need them. Although she and Stef had reiterated that all was forgiven and tried to show they were on good terms, Callie had steered clear of them and been on her best behaviour. They figured the emotional exhaustion from being triggered of her Mom's loss was why she'd been so quiet, but they also knew the fear of rejection always lurked closeby regardless of their efforts to shoo it away. Callie still needed reminders that her place in the family was untouched.

"Baby? Something on your mind? Did you have another nightmare?" Stef asked with concern, eying her child to see if she was okay.

"Couldn't sleep."

"You want to hang out with Mama and I for a bit?" Her offer elicited a reluctant nod and for the first time since that morning, a genuine smile graced Callie's lips. "Alright. Come here, lovebug," Stef said, moving down the couch to make room. She had a feeling some coaxing would be needed to get her girl to open up.

As Callie clamoured up, Stef's attention was drawn to bruising on the back of her ankles. She winced, horrified that her child had become so enraged by a time out that she had kicked the bed frame—hard enough to leave marks. The intent had been to remove Callie from their fight, but now she wouldn't be fully comfortable leaving her alone when Callie was that upset. Noticing her daughter draw her feet up under her after following her line of sight, Stef wrapped an arm around her. "Does it hurt?" she finally asked, after Lena had straightened the blanket over them. She didn't want to make Callie feel self-conscious or ashamed, but the skin looked sore.

Her guilt intensified when Callie confirmed what she knew. "A little."

"We'll ice it first thing tomorrow," she replied, considering an alternate opportunity for them to sit down and discuss appropriate cool down techniques that didn't involve becoming physical to deal with anger. Callie nodded, and the three of them sat in silence for awhile—Callie wedged in the crook of her arm, the throw she and Lena had been sharing reconfigured to include her. Her daughter reached for her other arm, bringing it across her chest the way she always did when she wanted a hug but was too shy to ask. Stef squeezed her tight. "Better?" She cherished this side of Callie; the one that could be incredibly loving and affectionate, secure enough to seek closeness. The side of her that wasn't screaming and lashing out at them.

Callie gave another nod as she nervously chewed on her lower lip. Eventually, she found her voice. "Mo—om?"

Stef smiled at the way Callie drew the word into two syllables. "Ye—es?" she imitated, winking at her daughter.

"Never mind." It wasn't important.

Stef gave her an expectant look. She didn't believe it was nothing for a second. "Hm? You sure? You can ask us anything."

Taking a deep breath, Callie thought of what it was she wanted to know. Stef might not have an answer but there was a possibility that she did by being a cop. "Did my Mom—uhm...do you know if she died right away?"

Lena's eyes widened at the nonchalant tone behind the question. Like most children, Callie was blunt. Even more so because she had already gone through a lifetime's worth of difficult experiences. Still, Lena hadn't been prepared for morbid curiosity. She was relieved that their daughter had asked Stef; her wife had had a lot more practice dealing with sensitive topics than she did.

The cop cleared her throat. She had fielded similar questions before, though this particular one usually came from adults rather than children. She didn't have an answer though, and even if she did, would have reservations about sharing that information with Callie. It'd be a lie to say she hadn't thought of pulling up the coroner's report and downloading Donald's sentencing records. However, she always stopped herself. There was no value in doing so, and ethically? The Jacobs deserved to have their privacy respected.

"I don't know if your Mom died right away, love," she replied, careful to be honest while keeping things age-appropriate. "Why do you want to know?"

"I was just wondering, if she didn't die right away…if she knew that she was. Knew she was gonna die, I mean. And if she did know, what was she thinking of? If...she remembered Jude and me."

"Oh...my love. Is this what's been on your mind?" No wonder Callie was having trouble falling asleep. "Those are a lot of heavy questions I'm not sure anyone other than your Mom would have the answers to, honey." Shattered by seeing disappointment weigh on Callie, she held her tighter, taking her time. "But what I do know is your Mom loved you and Jude fiercely...and I think if there was anything she thought about—if there was anything she was able to think about in that moment, it was you two. Because, that's what I would be thinking of—you kids. Every last one of you,"

Another pang of guilt washed over Callie as she heard the emotion tinging Stef's voice. Her foster moms really did love her and Jude. And she loved them back.

"Mom?"

Stef smiled tightly, afraid of what her daughter might ask next. "Yes, sweetness?" she said, still on the verge of tears.

Callie fiddled with the edge of the throw. "I…I'm sorry I was horrible and said you guys weren't my real Moms. Because you are, and you didn't deserve that." She took a deep breath, needing to go on. "I was disrespectful because I was so angry I don't have her and because I missed her. But that wasn't fair to you. It's not like you made me lose her. But I'm gonna try harder to use my words in a better way next time that's not hurtful."

Lena swallowed the growing lump in her throat at the familiarity behind those words. In trying to teach Callie that they were in charge of their emotions rather than the other way around, the sentiment was one that had been reiterated over many of their conversations. She was touched and so, so proud of her daughter for remembering because often it seemed like she didn't hear her. And not only that, but Callie sounded genuinely remorseful. Having reflected, she was able to offer an explanation as well as a way to move forward. She was really growing up.

"Honey, everyone makes the mistake of saying things they don't mean from time to time, even us. It doesn't make you horrible," she said, squeezing Callie's knee in reassurance. "But thank you. I am so proud of you for apologizing and trying to make things right. It isn't easy to accept responsibility and that shows a lot of growth and maturity in my books," she praised, hoping this signalled the start of a new pattern.

"Thank you for still helping me today," Callie whispered, grateful that all felt right again.

Stef sighed inwardly. Deep down, Callie still considered time and affection as privileges that had to be earned, instead of needs everyone deserved to have met. "Listen to me. You don't ever have to thank us for that. Just because you did some things you regret doesn't mean Mama and I would ever stop helping or loving you. All is forgiven. It's not something to beat yourself up over," she emphasized. Her efforts prompted a compliant nod, though she doubted whether her point had been taken to heart.

"I get so angry inside sometimes because you weren't there for us when we needed someone," Callie admitted, sounding as foolish as she was afraid she would.

Pins and needles starting in the arm that was wedged between her daughter and the couch, Stef readjusted to keep from going completely numb. This sort of language regularly came up. Over time, she took it to mean that Callie wished they hadn't been in foster care for as long as they had. "Mama and I would've been there in a heartbeat if we could have, I promise. I'm so sorry that we weren't," she said softly.

Callie frowned, not expecting that. She didn't even know what that was, but she believed them when they said they would have come for them if it'd been possible. "I don't know why I think that. It's not your fault."

"Fault is irrelevant," Stef countered, cupping the girl's cheek. "The last few months have been a huge adjustment for you and your brother, kiddo. It's been hard. You're going to have a lot of feelings behind all of this, and every single one counts. They aren't all going to make sense and they don't have to," she continued, validating what had been shared.

"I don't gotta take that out on you and Mama, though," Callie mumbled. It wasn't fair to dump her resentment onto Moms; they didn't have any control over what had happened to them. "I always wished for a family so bad but then, it just took so long to get one. And, I guess...well, I dunno, but I guess I got used to not having anyone there for us that...now that you guys are here, it's weird getting used to that." Eyes wide at the revelation, which hadn't occurred to her until she'd spoken them out loud, she glanced at them, hoping she hadn't offended. All good, she blew out a frustrated breath. "But I don't get why, because I really want to be adopted."

Lena hummed as she followed Callie's train of thought. "You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself, honey. You can look forward to being adopted without enjoying every single aspect of it. It doesn't mean you don't want the adoption." The look of confusion on Callie's face told her the concept had surpassed comprehension, but acknowledgment that the process of getting adopted was complicated was important.

"Mama's right," Stef interjected. "Transitions are hard. But do you know what the silver lining is?"

"No."

"Well, usually when things get difficult and messy, it means you're sorting through it. You're reacting to what's new and different, working with it and adapting—growing as a result. So as much as we might not like change, it's how we grow."

"But I don't want things to be so different," Callie said, her voice breaking. "I don't want to forget my Mom."

Stef nodded supportively. A few months ago, the relationship between those two statements would hkave thrown her for a loop, but now it made sense. "Are there some things that have changed that you think might make you forget your Mom?"

Her daughter's sadness was palpable. Somewhere along the way, Callie had made it her duty to carry on her mother's memory, not only for herself but for Jude. Now, the pressure had become overwhelming.

Emotion bubbling at the realization she'd never shared this fear with anyone before, Callie shrugged. She hadn't planned on it, but as usual, her Moms knew exactly what to say to get her to crack.

"Are you sure you can't think of anything?" Stef pushed, deciding her daughter needed a bit of encouragement. She figured Callie probably did know, but hadn't admitted the truth to anyone before.

"I dunno. I feel like if I keep changing—like, the more I get used to you and Mama, and our life together in this home...if we keep getting closer, then you'll replace her because I won't think of her as much. And that's how I'll forget her. I'll lose her again because she's already hard to remember, I've already forgotten her." Tears pooling and afraid to continue, she pressed her face flush into Stef's side.

"It's scary—very scary—when you can't remember everything you want to about your Mom. No one wants to forget things about someone who was special to them," Stef murmured as she stroked Callie's hair. "But sweetness, you won't ever forget her. Remembering your Mom doesn't mean stopping yourself from doing what you enjoy or keeping yourself from loving others or having other relationships. It doesn't mean you stop living. That's not what she would've wanted for you. She would not have wanted you to stop growing in all these ways. I'm sure of it, because if it were us, we'd feel the same. We wouldn't want that for you if we were no longer around." In a way, Callie was looking for permission to grow. "You may have some days when you're off having fun and doing new things that you don't think about her but that's normal, and it's okay. None of that means you've forgotten her, or that you're being disloyal."

Even though she was still struggling with what she'd confessed, Callie had to admit that sounded like something her Mom would've said. It made sense that having Stef and Lena didn't take from her connection to her Mom but it didn't always feel that way. Sometimes the thought just snuck up on her.

"Can you look at me for a sec?" Lena asked, preferring that Callie didn't hide when upset. Her daughter finally emerged, peering at her from inside the crook of Stef's arm. "There you are...Mom and I are trying to pick up where your Mom and Dad left off, as best we can without having known them. We're not trying to take you away from your life with them or looking to replace your Mom." She suspected the conflict over moving out was only the start of Callie comparing them to Colleen and challenging how they did things. Eventually, she hoped Callie would learn the differences weren't meant to antagonize her birth mother but was intended to be an extension of what they imagined Colleen would've wanted for the children. "It might not always seem that way but we would never want to push your Mom out of the picture or make you forget her."

Thrilled at what she was hearing, Callie extricated herself out from under Stef's arm, springing up onto her knees. She threw her arms around Lena, catching her foster mom off guard.

"What's this for, honey?" Lena gasped as she blinked away tears. She was still getting used to these displays of affection Callie had begun to initiate, little by little as she let them in, becoming acquainted with the security she could count on. Callie had been trying to understand the implications of their relationship on the one she'd had with Colleen the first eight years of her life, and she had been waiting for reassurance that it was okay to bond with them. That Callie had considered this in depth meant she was looking to accept them.

"For all that you do for me. And about everything you just said about not replacing my Mom and taking me from her," Callie said, feeling truly free in that moment. She took solace in the kindness and warmth she felt with Lena, comfort magnified by the familiar berry shampoo scent and big hair.

"Never, Callie. If you ever feel that way again, I want to know about it." She locked gazes with Stef, who was dabbing her eyes.

"You give the best hugs," Lena said as Callie sniffled. "Do you have another one in you for Mom?" She had had her moment with Callie. Now it was Stef's turn.

Their daughter nodded, giving her one last squeeze before she jumped into Stef's arms with such force that it winded her. The past few months had been hard on all of them, and she was relieved that they had been moving forward in big steps—amidst the mess. The way their relationship with Callie had evolved and developed never ceased to amaze and evoke a sense of pride within her. That she was opening up about her thoughts and feelings, seeking them out rather than them pulling answers from her, spoke volumes about how far she'd come while under their watch.

"Thank you for saying that I'm not leaving my Mom behind," Callie said so softly that only Stef could hear.

"Anytime," Stef said, finding it difficult to keep her emotions in check. Hearing a rustle, she patted Callie's hoodie front. "Hey, whatcha got there in your snack pocket?" Her daughter giggled at her teasing; she and Lena were never going to let her live that one down.

Sticking her hands into the kangaroo pocket, Callie gathered the ribbons of tape from the disemboweled cassette as best she could. Ever since Lena had helped fixed her book, she had thought about asking Moms if her tape could be fixed but chickened out each time. So it remained at the back of her drawer, upsetting her every time she saw it. Without the one with the recorded birthday greeting, she wasn't as interested in the others, fearing she'd be let down somehow.

"Oh no...Callie. I'm so sorry," Lena murmured, when she realized what their daughter had cradled in her hand. They had already known, of course, from Jude's admission but it was hard to see the mass of magnetic film. She knew what it had meant for Callie to have those cassettes returned, especially after all that time.

"The day Jude and I were fighting, he grabbed the cassette player from me and tried to get it out and it got jammed. That's why we were yelling," the girl explained, unaware her Moms already knew the whole story.

Stef and Lena exchanged a sad smile. They had wondered when Callie would tell them the truth. Trusting that she would once she was ready, they hadn't mentioned Stef's conversation with Jude. "It was wrong of him to take something of yours without your permission and wrecking it in the process. We talked to him about it and he knows he needs to be careful if you are going to share with him," Lena said.

"How about you and Mom try to fix the tape? She knows a thing or two about repairing them," she suggested when it seemed like Callie hadn't heard or grasped the past tense in her reply. She was surprised when Callie shook her head. "How come no?"

Callie shrugged. "I don't wanna get my hopes up." Simple.

"That's certainly understandable," Stef empathized. "Well, how about this? I'll take a closer look tomorrow, and let you know if it looks promising in case you change your mind. How does that sound?" she proposed, thinking of how her daughter could be included. Admittedly, this was an intimidating mess but as long as there was just one rip in the reel it would be fine.

Callie gave a reluctant nod. "Good."

"Alright. Let's go find a safe place for this and Mama and I will get you settled into our bed for the night." No way was she going to risk waking Mariana; whereas Callie could still function while tired, their younger daughter was an absolute nightmare to deal with whenever she didn't get a full night's sleep. "C'mon you sleepy bag of bones. Way past your bedtime." She was pleased to get quick agreement that probably had a lot to do with the glazed expression on her child's face.

By the time they had found a temporary home for the cassette, set her up with a fresh glass of water, and tucked her in as requested—sheet only, comforter folded at calf level, nestled beside Lena but not too close because her hair was 'tickly'—it was pushing one in the morning. Sleep beckoned in the form of fluttering eyes and night sweat beading a sticky hairline. Stef, who still had to brush her teeth, sat beside her—palm firmly pressed to her daughter's chest. Callie carried on their conversation from downstairs in spurts as she faded in and out of sleep, fighting it. Hoping Callie would talk herself to sleep as she processed her thoughts out loud, neither questioned her. Instead, they let the one-sided conversation take shape on its own.

"I wish Mom could be here for when we get adopted...but that's silly. Right Mom?"

"Not silly, love. It's only natural that you'd want her around to share important occasions with her."

"Yeah...but if Momma was here for us getting adopted then we wouldn't be getting adopted."

"True." With her thumb, Stef methodically stroked the middle of Callie's forehead up to her hairline and following it back down again. It was a strategy that worked with the youngest in their brood. Callie's eyes rolled back before snapping open, much to her chagrin. "Time to close your eyes, baby. It's okay, we're right here. We love you so much; your Mom does, too."

"Can she love me if she's not here?"

"Of course. Love between people who love each other very much is forever."

A distant memory came up in Callie's mind. "She used to say something like that…my Mom. She had a lot of love, and she said it didn't know any boundaries. When I started school for the whole day she said there's an invisible string that connects us always even if we're apart. And that was love." Her words slurred as sleep tried to take her. "I think I feel her around. Like a warm and kinda fuzzy...feeling...like big tickle-y hair and the fruity shampoo Mama uses…but I remember her too when you burn stuff in the kitchen and you swear when you think no one's listening."

Scandalized, Stef's mouth fell open.

Lena stifled a laugh. "You do," she mouthed, nodding emphatically. Out of the mouth of babes.

"So there. She can still love you," Stef pointed out, wanting to put an end to the conversation. "Goodnight, Callie."

A period of silence punctuated by light snoring set in, giving the impression that an opportunity to sneak away was possible until glazed, overtired eyes dashed hopes by blinking wide open again.

"She said love could roar louder than the ocean."

"Love can roar louder than the ocean, baby."

"When Mama was preggy with Jude she said even though I'd have to share my toys and our time together with him because he'd need lots of help, that I didn't have to share her love 'cause her heart would grow to make room for all of us. And I said that can't be good because that could hurt if your heart gets too big for your chest. But she said that's how she could love me as much as before he came along, and both of us, and maybe more," Callie rambled.

Stef shot a bemused smile at Lena. Evidently, they needed to talk with Callie when she was tired because it became so much easier to. "That sounds like something you would say, hey…" Then, as Callie yawned a big yawn: "Time for eyes to be closed...how about you tell us more about your Mom in the morning? Rest now or you won't have the energy to."

Her daughter didn't seem to hear. "I was thinking, maybe...maybe I can love you and Mama the same as my Mom, because my heart can grow like hers did to make room for everyone and maybe more. I can love three Moms."

Lena, hearing her wife cough and knowing Stef was trying to stop herself from completely losing it, replied on her behalf.

"You can love three Moms, sweetheart."


	53. A Decree

**Chapter 51:** A Decree

Callie stared at the bench. Everything about this place was the same as she remembered—the guards with their handheld metal detectors, the bright white overhead lights that buzzed, and the stench of stale bleach mixed with commercial cleaner. Having appeared before court as a defendant and found guilty, she didn't have particularly fond memories of the courtroom and wasn't thrilled to be back.

Admittedly, this time it was for a much happier occasion and she wasn't alone. Moms had helped her and Jude go through security, then walked with them to the first table where they were sitting. Then, Mom reminded them again about what would happen after the judge came in and counsel finished assembling: the swearing in and testimony, which meant a lot of talking and answering questions. Once settled, it was a quick hug and a kiss before Moms took the table behind them. She'd been disappointed they couldn't sit together, but all she had to do was to turn around to see that they were right there. And if she looked way to the back, there were the rest of her siblings and grandparents. Everyone who was backing them up on this, ready to welcome them into their family.

Beside her, Jude rubbed his hands on his pants. Her brother was always sweaty but whenever he was nervous, normal sweaty became _sweaty_ sweaty. By now, his palms were leaving streaks on his tan pants that Lena had ironed all nice for him. She didn't know why he was so anxious. Moms had told them some of the questions they might get asked so there wouldn't be any surprises. None were meant to be hard.

At least she was keeping it together better than Jude was. Counting _one_ … _two_ … _three_ …she tried to move the air from her mouth into her lungs, all the way down to her stomach. Lena called them belly breaths. To do them right, your stomach had to expand. But without Lena there, it wasn't working well and her chest only felt tighter. Giving up, Callie slid down the stiff upholstered chair. His-honour-the-majesty hadn't arrived yet, anyway.

She scoffed at hearing Stef clear her throat, but immediately sat up. Cop Mom never let her get away with anything. Needing distraction, she fingered the row of smooth, pearly button snaps on her new top. Lena had bought it after their argument over the one with the frills down the front. Together, they'd washed and put that one away in case she changed her mind. But Callie knew she wouldn't, because she liked this blouse more. The navy fabric was printed with little white flamingoes perched on one leg, a touch of hot pink for the beaks and legs. There was no collar and the front was plain except for a pocket on the left with its matching white button. Paired with light-coloured capris, she coordinated perfectly with Jude. Lena had even removed all the labels so there was nothing scratchy. She loved everything about this outfit Mama had picked out, so much so that she'd been in it ever since her shower first thing that morning. Thinking back on how she had nearly beaten sunrise, Callie cursed herself for waking up so early. The day was not half done but she was exhausted.

Everything so far had been a non-stop blur. After she'd gotten dressed, Stef had towel-dried and combed her hair in the kitchen while they waited for the coffee to finish. Then it was up to the master bedroom with a mug for Lena, who'd been so surprised to see her in her clothes that she had cried. While that was happening, Grandma, Grams, and Grandpa had arrived and set up breakfast like a buffet so they could graze in between family photos.

But now, time dragged as they waited for the hearing to start. She was getting bored.

Noticing that her brother's leg was bouncing, Callie leaned over and elbowed him gently. "Everything's gonna be fine. Moms are right behind us." She was anxious, too, but at least could fake it to make herself feel better. "What's wrong?"

Her brother shrugged. "Thirsty," he mumbled.

"You know they're not gonna let you have water, right?" Callie pointed out. Moms had repeatedly asked them before they came into the courtroom if they had had enough to drink since they weren't allowed anything inside.

Sighing when he simply stared with a downtrodden expression, she turned around for Lena.

' _Everything okay?'_ Lena mouthed at the eye contact from her daughter. Concerned when Callie shook her head and gestured to her youngest, she went to investigate. Making her way to the front, she crouched down by his chair. "Hey, bud. What's up?"

Afraid Lena was mad at having to come over, Jude's shoulders sagged. "I want water," he said, repeating his excuse.

Lena sighed inwardly at the slight whine coming from her son, curious if this was really about thirst, or if it was boredom combined with nerves. He had had plenty to drink in the lobby. "Already?" She winked as his gaze met hers, guilt etched in there. "There's been a bit of waiting, hasn't there?" Not saying anything, Jude slid off his chair into open arms.

"It will be over soon. I promise," Lena reassured, rubbing his back. As her baby boy snuggled up her, it dawned on her that she would miss this once he hit those preteen years and would be more selective with being affectionate in public. At eight, he didn't think twice about giving hugs or holding hands, and she cherished it.

"There's not enough time to leave and come back in," Lena explained; security protocol took time. "But once we're done and can leave you can have as much to drink and anything you want. You'll be okay until then," she said confidently to keep his hopes up. There were snacks and water in the car, and they'd be heading home as soon as they could for the reception, which would have light refreshments.

Jude easily acquiesced, giving her another squeeze before hopping back up onto his seat. "I can wait, Mama."

"That's probably for the best." She waved at Bill as security escorted him in. Given his long term relationship with the children, he would give formal testimony as well.

Noticing counsel assembling, Lena pressed a kiss to Jude's forehead. "Everyone's taking their seats. We'll see you both soon."

"Bye," the siblings chorused as the court registrar began to speak, signalling the start of proceedings. "All rise for the honourable Judge Douglas Matheson."

Relief and pride filled Stef as Callie and Jude snapped up in their seats and looked forward. They'd taken heed of her warnings to pay attention and not fool around. Generally, court staff were patient and forgiving with children but she was always cautious with them in an administrative setting.

Even with the knowledge that Moms were there, Callie found it hard not to fidget. She was buzzing with anticipation. Today was a huge deal and one they'd waited a long time for. And while little would actually change by getting adopted, that they were making this permanent meant the world to her. She and Jude would no longer be wards of the state. Most importantly, no one could take them away from Stef and Lena. They'd be together, forever.

"Case number A996374, Stefanie Adams Foster and Lena Adams Foster versus the State of California. All parties, please enter your appearance."

Perplexed, Callie watched as people began to introduce themselves and take the oath. That was what Moms had told them to do if they didn't understand what was going on: to pay attention and follow the others. When it was her turn, she stood up, gave her name, and listened to the oath she was supposed to repeat. Failing her first attempt, the registrar started over from the beginning and coached her in parts so she had less to remember each time.

"I solemnly, sincerely and...truly..."

"... _declare and affirm_."

"declare and affirm," Callie recited after her. The typing from the secretary was distracting.

" _That I will tell the truth, the whole truth_..."

"That I'll tell the truth, the whole truth,"

" _And nothing but the truth_."

"And nothing but the truth."

Jude was then walked through the same process before Moms did their oaths. Once everyone had finished, their attorney walked a folder over to the bench and began proceedings.

"Your honour, Mrs. Stefanie Adams Foster and Mrs. Lena Adams Foster are here today to seek approval in their petition to adopt Mr. Jude Jacob and his sister, Miss Callie Jacob. If successful, this would transfer custody of Jude Jacob and Callie Jacob from the State of California, as contracted to the Department of Social Services, to Mrs. Stefanie Adams Foster and Mrs. Lena Adams Foster. The four month revocation period has passed, and the children's birth father, Mr. Donald Jacob, no longer maintains rights to the children. There is the potential for the relationship to be maintained, thus, the petitioners are not seeking a closed adoption. The children's Case Manager is able to provide collateral."

Bill stood and cleared his throat, taking his turn to speak. He was thrilled for these kids to get their forever family. It'd been a very long road and for a while, things had been bleak as he struggled to find a living arrangement for them that would surpass the six month mark. Those days, adoption had seemed impossible. "Your honour. Stefanie and Lena Adams Foster are highly experienced caregivers who are familiar with fostering and adoption. Over the course of this placement, the prospective adopters were committed to the children's health, well being, and socioemotional development. They quickly developed strong rapport with Callie and Jude, which eased the transition into their home. The children have made incredible gains while in their care and without a doubt, I attribute their success to their current environment.

"Copies of the initial and follow-up assessments are enclosed. I had no concerns in the post-placement visits. Given that reunification with the remaining biological parent is not a viable option, the Department of Social Services has deemed that permanent placement of Jude and Callie with Stefanie and Lena would be of significant benefit to them.

"Thank you for your testimony." The judge peered through his glasses at the paperwork laid out in front of him. "When did the state become the legal guardian of Callie Jacob and Jude Jacob?"

"2007, your honour," Bill replied.

"Thank you." There was a pause as the judge rifled through the stack to find what he needed, mumbling as he read to himself before addressing the court. "Jude and Callie have been moved through six homes in the span of five years. In every situation where children and youth are part of the child welfare system, the goal is to achieve permanency as early as possible. That ensures that harms and disruption related to repeated removals and resettlement are minimized. This case is no different." Skimming the sentencing document for the older child at the juvenile facility, he noted harm had aready been done. "Given some of the...complexities that are likely present, I imagine there is a support plan in place to serve both the children's and adoptive parents' needs?"

"Absolutely, your honour. A permanency plan has been developed and will be rolled out immediately."

"Thank you. Counsel may continue."

The attorney turned towards the back row to call upon his clients. "Mrs. Stefanie Adams Foster, how long have you resided in the State of California?"

Stef stood up. "For twenty two years, your honour."

"What is your occupation?"

"I'm a Police Officer with the San Diego Police Department."

"How long have you been in service?"

"Twenty-four in total, but twenty-two with the department."

"Thank you for your service, Officer. I understand you and your wife are legally married. What is your date of marriage?"

Stef felt tears prick her eyes as she recalled that day. "October 12th, 2008." It'd been less than a year after the twins had come along. Mariana had thrown flowers...B and Jesus had been their best men.

"What does your wife do for a living?"

"She's Vice Principal of Anchor Beach Charter High School."

"How long has she held that role?"

"Five years," Stef answered. "Prior to that she was in private practice and was with the Department of Education." Their attorney hadn't asked for that information but she wanted to clarify that Lena's career had began well over five years ago.

"Thank you. I understand your home is in the Pacific Beach area."

"That's correct."

"Can you tell the court a bit about the neighbourhood your home is located in?"

"We're on a quiet street that's family-friendly. There hasn't been a lot of turnover, so Lena and I know all our neighbours. We're close to the children's school and our workplaces, about a ten minute drive for each of us. We're just west of the I-5," she explained, "so really convenient if we need to go further for an appointment, or to the airport."

"Would you say you and your wife have a reliable support network?"

"I would say so, yes. Our parents are involved in their grandchildren's lives and visit several times a year. My ex-husband cares for three of our children on a fairly regular basis. The children's Godparents live just north of us; we see them for holidays." Stef paused, wondering what the judge might want to hear. "With five kids, we'd be of course looking to increase the amount of instrumental help we receive to keep our household running smoothly. My mother is considering reducing her hours at work so she can visit more often and give us a hand."

"I imagine that would be helpful." The attorney chuckled. He had two of his own; they were school-aged now but he remembered joking that that was two too many when they were younger. "Could you describe a typical day in your household?"

Stef had to laugh. Their attorney had done the twins' adoption and she remembered how flabbergasted he was when he learned she and Lena intended to adopt again. "It's a tight ship. The kids have a wake up routine on weekdays; we have breakfast then it's a mad dash out the door. They're able to walk to school but most days they're driven because we're running behind. When their day is over, they either walk back together or come home with Lena. Then it's homework, dinner together, and getting them outside for a bit of fresh air before bedtime."

"Do you or your wife anticipate any major changes in your careers over the next five years?"

"Lena does not, no. At least not while the kids are still in school, since the current arrangement allows her days to align with theirs very well. There are some long days but we get her schedule a year in advance so it's easy to plan for them," she explained. It was the reason why Lena had turned down the administrative position with the school board; they needed one parent with consistent hours. "My days are much more unpredictable. I end up picking up a second shift or working later on more days than not...but I do have more flexibility to take off early if staffing allows, or stay home on short notice if someone's sick. I'm hoping to eventually transition into a new role to give me more structure at work and time at home." The kids didn't know yet but she was after a schedule that would allow her to work three or four longer days so she could have the rest of the week off.

"What is your financial plan to provide for Jude and Callie Jacob long term?"

"Lena and I are financially secure. We have permanent positions with pensions with our employers, in addition to extended health coverage for everyone. Callie and Jude will be added to the plans once we provide adoption paperwork. Educational investments for post-secondary have been set up for each of our children; Callie and Jude's just need to be finalized. I also have the option to retire at age fifty if I want to with full pension."

"Thank you. No further questions," the attorney concluded before returning to his seat.

It was the judge's turn now. "Thank you to all parties for your testimony thus far. Mrs. Adams Foster, I understand that you and your wife have already been through one successful adoption in 2007. What made you decide to do it again?"

Stef cleared her throat. She and Lena had expected to be asked this so they'd rehearsed their answers. "Lena and I always planned on a big family. Our experience fostering and adopting our twins, Mariana and Jesus, was nothing short of wonderful. Afterwards, we took a break so all of us could settle down into a new rhythm...but we never felt our journey as parents was done. When we met Callie and Jude, they'd been waiting for a permanent placement for such a long time. We felt strongly that they deserved the security of a family and a home to call their own."

Her voice wavered as she pushed herself to continue. "We were convinced we could provide that for them. They weren't any less deserving of stability because they'd been in foster care for a while. We wanted them to have a solid shot at a bright future with a family that would stand with them no matter what. From the beginning, we intended our home to be Callie and Jude's last stop—we didn't want them moving anymore. Or to be put in different homes when they only had each other."

She remembered Lena telling her about a conversation she'd had with Bill before they accepted the placement. Due to Callie's age and history, DSS had been having difficulty finding a home that would take them as a pair. They had offered to only give them Jude if it'd be easier for them, despite acknowledging the strong attachment between the siblings. But she and Lena hadn't had the conscience to separate them.

Judge Matheson nodded. It was always promising when foster parents had adoption as their ultimate goal from the beginning, rather than taking a wait-and-see approach. Adoption was more likely to be successful in the former because caregivers regarded the fostering period as a vehicle to get them to their endpoint. "What has it been like having Jude and Callie join your family?"

"Oh, absolutely crazy. Our kids are always scheming to keep us on our toes, it seems, and some days all they do is argue with each other. The laundry is always on and our utilities bill is proof of that. Thank goodness we don't have real winters." Laughter emanated from the audience at her quip.

She struggled to keep tears at bay over the little things about having Callie and Jude she could not share. All the experiences that were special and meaningful simply because they were _new_. Books they'd started together. The inside jokes they shared. The first time each of them referenced the shared bedrooms as _theirs_. All the _I love yous_.

"But welcoming Callie and Jude into our lives, watching them grow—no, _thrive_ —has brought us tremendous joy. The two of them teach us so much every day, and Lena and I are so proud of them. What's been the most special has been the relationships that have formed between them and our other three. They're inseparable. It's hard to remember what life was like without them".

"Thank you. I hope all five of them will always have those relationships to rely upon," the judge said. "Mrs. Adams Foster, is it your intention to provide Jude and Callie with a stable and loving environment in which they will be able to enjoy the freedoms of childhood, have their needs met, and be free from mistreatment on a consistent basis?"

"It is, your honour."

"Is it your intention to maintain a parental relationship with Jude and Callie, not only until they turn legal age, but beyond that into adulthood—emotionally, instrumentally, and financially—in the way a parent would be expected to?"

"It is, your honour."

"Do you and your wife agree to maintain a functional coparenting relationship based on the best interests of these children and be equally responsible for them in the event of marital dissolution?"

"We do, your honour."

"Mrs. Lena Adams Foster, do you agree with your wife's answers?"

Lena stood. "I agree, your honour."

"If asked the same questions, would you answer them in a similar way?"

"I would, your honour."

Judge Matheson thanked them, dismissing them to take their seats. He scribbled notes before looking over his glasses at the youngest individual in his courtroom. "Jude Jacob. Are you aware that Stefanie and Lena would like to adopt you and your sister?"

"Yes, sir—I mean, your honour."

"And do you have any objection to this?"

"No, your honour."

"That's good. Why do you want to be adopted?"

"Because Stef and Lena love us, for real," Jude began tentatively. "We always get to do fun stuff together and there's always someone to play with at home and so many things to do. When I need something all I have to do is ask and they help." His voice climbed in the annoying way it did when he got nervous. "They're not mean to us. Even when I'm in trouble, Mom and Mama always forgive me."

The women placed their hands on their hearts at his reasoning. Jude had his insecurities too, but they were easier to shoo away than Callie's.

The judge smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful family to get adopted into," he said. "I'm happy your mothers are forgiving when you get in trouble. But that doesn't happen very often, right, Mr. Jacob?"

Jude shook his head, incredulous. "No, your honour!" he insisted as soft laughs echoed behind him. "But maybe you need to ask my Moms because they might have a different answer than what I think."

"That's very insightful. But I don't think that will be necessary. I can tell when someone is telling the truth." Judge Matheson winked at the boy's relief. "That's all. You may take your seat."

Now it was Callie's turn.

"Miss Callie Jacob. Are you aware that Stefanie and Lena would like to adopt you?"

"Yes I am, your honour."

"And do you have any objection to this?"

"No objection your honour."

"Your brother has shared with the courtroom his reasons for wanting to be adopted by Stefanie and Lena. I'd like to hear from you as well. Why do you want to be adopted?"

Callie cleared her throat, trying not to think about everyone else there. She didn't often share much with people—sure, with Stef and Lena she did but not strangers. But the whole reason they were here was to build a case about why the adoption should take place. "Ever since Stef and Lena were raising us, everything's gotten better," she began. "From day one, they included us in their family and always treated us like their kids. They make time for us and give us the chance to do all these things we didn't get to before. They care about what we need and usually know what it is before we do. Even when they found out we'd been through a lot of homes, Stef and Lena, they still wanted us. They said their place was going to be our last stop and I don't think they're gonna change their mind anytime soon." She grinned, realizing that if Stef and Lena did change their mind they'd be stuck with her and Jude forever. "They're always there for me and make me want to do better.

"Also, I...I want to do stuff other kids my age can do. Like go on a field trip or make friends I don't have to say goodbye to in a few months. I just don't want to be in the system anymore, your honour," Callie faltered. About to disregard Mom's instruction to only give answers to questions that were asked, she deliberated if what she had to say would be worth the trouble later. When he didn't stop her, she pushed on. "It's broken. The system housed us but couldn't give us a home. People put up with you. They don't treat you the same as their other kids and they don't bother hiding it. They remind you they're doing you a favour like it's some excuse to treat you bad." Convinced he needed to know, her words tumbled with more confidence. "And when things get awful, you get moved. Which is good, but when you keep moving, people want you even less. You start to think something's wrong with you. Then it's too late. You're aging out so no one can have you." She shrugged over the awkwardness of talking to silence. "I want a family that I can be part of, for real. That's Stef and Lena."

The judge gave a nod to the proud parents. He was impressed; Callie was more articulate than he had expected for her age. "Miss Jacob, thank you. That was very courageous of you to share your experiences to give a voice to other kids who are in a similar position." Learning from those who had been through the system was key to fixing it. "Keep it up. You have a lot of potential."

"Yes, your honour," Callie replied. She'd sworn to herself that she'd do better. She'd remember to because not only did she owe it to all her Moms but she owed it to herself, to make something of herself.

"It sounds like it's been a bit of a tough road for you, but I understand you've been in a good place since you started living with Stef and Lena."

"Yea—yes. It's been great. I'm really happy living with them, your honour."

"That's a very important consideration in the ruling. Perhaps the most," Judge Matheson supplied before directing her to her seat.

Callie's eyes widened at noticing the new booklet being opened—one with little coloured tags sticking out. They looked like the official papers. Wanting to know if her brother has seen it too, she elbowed him, causing him to jump. She froze when Mom cleared her throat.

The judge, detecting some impatience, explained as he signed and initialled the relevant boxes. "Everything is almost done. I'm finishing the adoption orders that your parents will need before you leave. You two have done a wonderful job waiting and answering the questions asked of you today."

The siblings stared at him and each other before slowly turning around to face their Moms. If they could, they'd jump up and start screaming but Stef and Lena would surely kill them and then there'd be no cake because they'd be dead, and dead people couldn't eat anything. But really, neither were interested in having a problem with Moms on Adoption Day.

The women nearly snorted. The kids looked maniacal. Eyes wide and mouths dropped, their expressions matched in the carbon copy way siblings often did. Stef smiled tightly as she gripped her wife's hand under the table. ' _Soon_ ,' she mouthed before pointing at Callie and Jude to turn back around.

"Now. Jude Jacob. Was it Mom and Mama that I heard you use to refer to Stef and Lena?"

"Yep! Mom and Mama. But Jesus sometimes calls Stef Mommy when he thinks no one's listening," he confirmed, ever helpful. His addendum caused a commotion in the background: Jesus' spirited protest, drawing a swift reproach from Grandpa.

Callie nudged her brother again. She also called Stef her own names—but she didn't need the whole world knowing that!

"Alright, Mom-sometimes-Mommy and Mama Adams Foster! I usually ask the court to issue three certified copies of the decree. The reason for this is that it's extremely difficult to obtain additional copies if ever lost. One is kept in my office; the other two go home with you. I recommend you leave one copy in a security deposit box at the bank since you only need one original to file for health insurance, social security, and passports. Our office provides a copy of the order to the Superior Court to update the birth certificates. You receive those in the mail in four to six weeks," the judge explained.

His attention returned to the kids. "Have you two given any thought to your last name?"

Callie and Jude nodded enthusiastically. _Had they ever_! "Adams Foster!" they chorused. It'd been a no brainer. They wanted a new name to signal a new chapter in their lives.

"Adams Foster it will be, then. The change will be reflected on your new birth certificates." He made the notation on the relevant line item to have that updated. "I assume you'll want to help issue my findings?" he asked, chuckling when the younger boy's eyes bugged out. That was a yes.

A guard stepped forward, gesturing to the kids to come with him. Callie and Jude followed him past counsel. At the bench, he held the gate open as both of them climbed up, squishing in on either side of the judge.

Butterflies stirred in Callie's stomach when she saw her entire family from up there for the first time. It felt like she was far away, outside of herself, watching this unfold. A gavel and sound block were placed in front of her, and the realization that she and Jude were going to finalize their own adoption made it even more surreal. She waved at Stef, receiving two thumbs up. Moms looked sad in the happy sort of way.

"When I reach the end, you may hit your blocks. It doesn't have to be very hard," the judge pointed out though he expected once they got started, restraint would be a forgone thought. "Think you can do that?" The children armed themselves with their gavels, telling him they were ready and were taking their jobs seriously.

It was over almost as soon as it began.

"After taking into account the testimony provided by all parties today, it is—without a doubt in my mind—in the best interest of Mr. Jude Jacob and Miss Callie Jacob to remain in their current living arrangement permanently. The petitioners have demonstrated their commitment to nurture all aspects of Jude and Callie's health and well-being while the children have been in their care. I have full confidence they will continue going above and beyond to do so." He signalled to the kids that he was about to issue the decree. "Therefore, on this date of the eighteenth of August, two thousand and twelve in the State of California, I declare the adoption of Jude Jacob and Callie Jacob—hereby known as Jude Adams Foster and Callie Adams Foster—by Mrs. Stefanie Adams Foster and Mrs. Lena Adams Foster as complete."

He erupted into laughter when the newly minted adoptees slammed their gavels down hard and kept going. As if on cue, a ruckus ensued: kazoos from those he presumed were the other siblings, followed by panicked rebukes from grandparents in charge of them. This was his favorite part of the job.

"I thank you all for attending!" He was now shouting above the gleeful shrieks of Jude and Callie, and the incessant banging of the sound blocks. "This may feel like the finish line—and it is in its own merit—but in many ways it is a return to the starting line for another marathon! Congratulations to the new family!" he finished before ushering the two of them down from the bench.

Callie raced down those steps to meet her Moms, who were coming just as quick to meet them. Mom caught her just in time as she tripped on the last step, lifting her up into a hug so big that her feet barely grazed the floor. Once set back down, she found herself in the best Mama sandwich of all time, the reality of what'd happened hitting when thank yous and congratulations were exchanged.

Beginning to cry out of sheer relief, she couldn't turn towards Grams and Grandpa calling her to look at the camera. Instead, she buried herself in Mom's arms where she was safe and could hear the quiet words meant only for her.

"You're home…

 _Oh_ , you're _home_..."

* * *

Lena tried not to let her disappointment show as Callie picked at her pasta. She had slow roasted the tomatoes for the sauce, which had been quite the process, so the lack of appetite was a little disheartening. She wondered if it had to do with her daughter being overwhelmed with the number of guests who were over. People had been dropping by all afternoon. Right now, all three grandparents, plus Jenna, Kelly, and Garrett brought the total number at their table to twelve. Getting food served had been slightly rushed and later than planned by the time everyone arrived. Since they were celebrating Callie and Jude's adoption, each had been allowed to pick one main course. Together, they had come up with smoky mac n' cheese with kale, and spaghetti and meatballs. Carb overload, but the options were crowd pleasers so she didn't object.

Wanting Callie and Jude to have their undivided attention, she and Stef sat with them at one end. She had Jude beside him, with her Dad on his other side. Callie was seated directly across from her, between Stef and Sharon.

"Honey, are you not very hungry?"

"What? Our Bug not hungry?" Stef asked, overhearing.

Callie smiled shyly at the concern in her mother's voice. "I am. It's good," she denied as she wound noodles around her fork.

Stef gave her wife a quizzical look. This was a favourite, but Jude also wasn't eating with his usual gusto. The reason for this soon became clear when his fork accidentally slid down the steep sides of his plate into his dinner. It was the second time that had happened, and she sympathized. His face reddened and he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed before attempting to fish out the utensil. She wished she had stood her ground on using their usual dinnerware. Dana had insisted on laying out a fancier set that matched for the occasion, but it wasn't child friendly.

Jude's frustration peaked when the fork slipped again, it's clang against the china bringing unwanted attention his way.

"Here, honey, let me get that," Lena offered, grabbing a napkin to wipe his fingers and utensil down.

"I need you to _help_ me!" Jude snapped, his tone lodged between a whine and a bossy demand. He was starving and all he wanted was to eat, but the noodles weren't cooperating and the bowl was impossible. Frustrated when his complaint earned a raised eyebrow from Mama, he booted the table leg. An uncomfortable silence fell as wine glasses rattled.

Lena pursed her lips, unimpressed with his sour attitude. As for the behaviour, she was torn between ignoring it for the time being or dealing with it while her parents were present. Her mother had already offered some unsolicited advice so she felt some pressure to do the latter. Not wishing to embarrass him however, she leaned in towards him. "Thank you for using your words but we do not kick the table. Is there a specific way that you would like me to help, different than what I'm offering?" she questioned. "I'm happy to, but it's hard to when I don't know exactly what you want." Her exasperation rose when Jude ignored her and went to kick the table a second time. This time, she caught his calf.

Sensing that the situation was unravelling, Stef intervened. Their youngest had had more excitement for one day than he could handle. " _Hey_. Do we need to go have a talk?" she warned. She and Lena never liked taking their kids away from dinner but they did if that was what they needed. He refused to meet her eyes, but she could see him think things through before deciding that wasn't what he wanted.

"Please I need help with my spaghetti," he tried again, forcing a happier tone.

Lena frowned at his way of showing he was working on his attitude. It was a good start but nowhere close to being as sincere as she'd hoped. Jude had been whiny for most of the day and she and Stef owed it to being tired from the non-stop festivities. After all, he was eight, and his emotional regulation wasn't that great to begin with. Like his sister, he had also gotten up very early—before seven—even though the hearing wasn't until the afternoon. "Alright," she conceded, reaching for his plate.

"Mom?" Callie whispered, tapping Stef on the arm. "I need help, too, please." Head resting against her arm, she showed her how the carefully wound pasta around her fork unravelled when lifted.

She shared in Jude's annoyance; she also hadn't gotten through her dinner and was hungry. She looked longingly at the mac n' cheese, regretting her choice to start with spaghetti. Macaroni she could shovel with a spoon but she wouldn't be allowed another helping because she hadn't finished her first. "Never mind..." she mumbled, pushing the plate away.

"Hold on a sec, you love this dish," Stef said, pulling the plate back and handing her daughter her fork. Wrapping an arm around so she could place her hand over Callie's, she guided the utensil into the pasta, rotating its prongs against the spoon held ready. "The trick is to pick up less than you think you need." Once the spaghetti was compact, Stef transferred it over to the spoon. "The rest of it is to just get it neat enough so it stays together."

She pressed a kiss to her girl's temple as shoulders slouched. Callie tended to be self-conscious over being helped so this had been a big ask. "Yeah, yeah. This much work for just one bite," she teased, drawing on previous bellyaching when their daughter had been encouraged to practice. Callie gripped her utensils overhand, which made it difficult when eating certain foods that required more dexterity. "It'll get easier, I promise. But if you're starving, do what Jesus is doing," Stef said as her son dipped his head to meet his food halfway, emerging with a mouthful of pasta. He slurped loudly and Callie giggled as it all disappeared in one go. "Not that part, though. _JESUS_!"

Her son grinned at her from across the table, sauce all over his mouth and face from where noodles had slapped him in the face. "Sorry Mom," he apologized at being scolded.

"What was your favourite part of today?" Sharon asked her youngest grandson. Now that the heated exchange from earlier had been successfully diverted, it was time to offer a fresh start.

"Mm...when the judge let us hit the hammer and he said all that stuff about me and Callie being Adams Foster and that we belonged to Moms forever and ever," Jude chattered. His heart had pounded wildly at the announcement and he remembered running from the bench to Moms. Mama had caught him in her arms in the best hug yet, lifting him up and spinning him around.

"I liked getting my new name, too!" he exclaimed. The truth was that he was also a tiny bit sad about it. His old name had been the only thing tying him to his biological parents. At the same time, he didn't have Mom anymore and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get to meet his Dad. It felt okay to let that part of his life go.

" _My_ favourite part was the cake!" Jesus piped up excitedly.

Stef guffawed. "I bet it was, baby."

"Which one?" Jude demanded. There'd been two at the reception: a chocolate one for him and Callie that said _Happy Gotcha Day!_ in bright purple icing and flowers, and a white one with yellow lemon dots for their Mom.

Jesus thought about it. "Your Momma's cake was prettier," he said, "and I like lemon…but your's and Callie's tasted better." Both were special to his brother and sister and that was his attempt to be diplomatic.

"I liked both! But Momma's cake had candles to blow out," Jude said.

Callie giggled at her little brother, whose happiness had made his voice go shrill. Blowing out the candles had been her favourite. There's been six—one for each year after thirty, the way she remembered her Mom saying she wanted to celebrate birthdays past her third decade. Everyone had erupted into _Happy Birthday_ when Mama came into the family room carrying it, all the candles lit. She'd stopped Jude from blowing them out before they made their wishes, and then they blew them out together. Moms handed out hats and with the extras, they made funny arrangements: Jesus wore three on his head like a dinosaur, and Mariana had hers like a unicorn.

"Yeah, buddy, that was pretty sweet!" Brandon agreed. He reached around Grams to tousle his little brother's hair in an affectionate gesture.

Stef and Lena looked at their children with pride. When they just had Brandon and were considering adopting the twins, they had worried about how he would deal with going from being an only child to one of three. Then with three kids, they worried about how each would handle the adjustment to two more siblings. But as Stef had mentioned in the hearing, the kids were inseparable. Even Callie and Mariana had bonded, despite having few mutual interests.

They were relieved at how well the post-adoption reception had gone. Organizing that had been tricky at times. Understandably, Callie and Jude wanted to honour their mother's birthday with a cake, but they'd argued when Jude wanted to display a photo of their parents together. With some gentle negotiation, Callie had agreed to a couple portraits of Colleen that Donald had taken. That would include both, which Jude was satisfied with.

"How about you—what was your favourite part of today, sweet pea?" Sharon asked Callie. She couldn't wait for the many adventures she knew she'd have with her new granddaughter. It would take time but they would get there.

"Momma's birthday cake, too, 'cause everyone was singing," Callie said without having to think about it. "And when we got home, seeing all the flowers and cards and presents. I liked that." There had been so many _._ And she and Jude had been so surprised because neither had realized there'd be presents for getting adopted. Each of them had been able to pick one thing from a cabinet in the courtroom before they'd left and that had been enough for them. The majority of items had been for little kids but she had found a brand new sketch pad—the kind with thick, textured paper—and a set of charcoal pencils she couldn't wait to try out.

"I'm sure you did! That must have been a some surprise, hey?" Sharon wrapped an arm around the child, bringing her close. "There's more," she whispered.

" _More_?" her grandchild asked incredulously.

" _Ma!"_ Stef griped. Their parents had initially agreed to keep gift-giving to an acceptable level but in the days leading up to the adoption, they'd apparently panicked they didn't have enough. As a result, both kids had received more gifts than she and Lena were comfortable with. As expected, Callie and Jude had been overwhelmed and had politely declined most of the presents. Even after many reassurances that everything was meant for them, the children only opened a couple presents each. Together, they'd unwrapped the largest gift for Callie, a joint effort between the grandparents, herself, and Lena: her own bicycle .

"Just some clothes and shoes," Sharon defended, putting up her hands.

Stef rolled her eyes, though she appreciated her mother's efforts to clothe their children. Keeping up with clothes for five growing bodies was a challenging, time-consuming task that she didn't have the patience or skill for. Although Lena she enjoyed it, she did not have enough time either.

"What? What is so funny, missy?" she demanded when Callie giggled.

"Nothing, Momma," Callie replied quickly. Seeing her Mom's stern expression, she bit her lip to hide her amusement. It was funny to see the cop argue with Grandma.

"It'd better be nothing. Are you up for more presents tonight?"

The girl considered before letting out a grin. "Yeah, think so. Can we do cards together after?" she asked. Most had nice messages written in them and she liked reading them with Moms.

Stef smiled, grateful Callie was interested. Almost all of them had money or a gift card tucked in them and when the kids had first discovered that, they had shied away from those as well. "Definitely, sweetness," she agreed, not caring that it would mean a late night. She and Lena needed to make this happen because at the heart of it, the kids still felt undeserving. It was the whole reason why, despite marvelling at the wrapped presents, they didn't want to actually open anything.

"Can I say something?" Callie asked. Over the last few days of waiting, she had mulled over how to express her gratitude to Moms for everything they'd done for them. And though the idea had been daunting, she knew how special it'd be if she managed to do it with the whole family there. After some deliberation, she'd written out her thoughts and rehearsed the points she wanted to cover until she felt comfortable. Jude was in on it, too.

"Of course, love. You want to make a toast?" Stef clarified, in awe when her daughter nodded and picked up her wine glass and spoon. She cringed when Callie tapped the glass none too gently.

"Oops..." Callie said apologetically when it clanged much louder than she intended. "Uh. Hi…" she stammered, trailing off as a hush fell over the table again. She suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"Mom..." she said as Stef took the glass and spoon from her. "I just want to say something, but I don't know if that makes it a toast or not." All she could think of was that _she_ was toast.

"Go ahead, it's alright. We'll appreciate whatever you have to say," Stef reassured, giving Callie's arm a squeeze.

Callie nodded as anxious feelings dissipated. "I...I just wanted to say to everyone, on behalf on me and Jude, thank you so much for coming to our Adoption Day. I know some of you had to take a plane or drive a long way, and stuff like that costs money and takes time. So we appreciate that." She cleared her throat, courage returning. "And for the party. No one's done that for us before but I guess we haven't been adopted before, either."

She waited for Jude to nod in agreement before addressing Stef and Lena. "Mom...Mama...thanks for not letting us get put in different homes. It'd be so hard if we lived apart." Tears pricked her eyes and she stalled, trying to keep it together. The hardest part about juvie hadn't been being in there, but having to be away from Jude and not being able to look out for him.

"Thanks for taking a chance and not turning us down because we'd been through a lot of homes and because we're older," she continued. "Waiting for a forever family for so long...I think at some point I gave up. I was tired of getting disappointed every time we thought we'd found a home, and then it wouldn't work out for whatever reason. I started telling myself it wasn't in the cards for us. It just felt like our time had run out, you know? Everyone had given up on us, so I gave up on me, too," she admitted, choking up as Mama began to cry. "But now I'm glad we had to wait, even though it was hard. Because if we hadn't, we probably wouldn't have met you guys."

Her little brother smiled broadly. "Yeah! You guys were the first to want us!" he said enthusiastically. "And it's way better to wait _longer_ for a family who _wants_ you, than shorter for one that's just like _meh_!"

Callie beamed. That was always what she told Jude whenever he became impatient and discouraged about not being adopted. When she didn't have an answer why but needed a reason so that he wouldn't lose hope. "And, I also wanted to say...Mom? Mama? Thanks for being patient and for being there for me...and believing in me, even when I screw up. For raising me and teaching me right from wrong, and wanting me to do my best. For loving us..."

She looked at Jude to give the go ahead, and together they repeated cheesy words of Stef's from a conversation a while ago—one she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. "We know that even though we didn't grow under your heart, we grew in it!" they chorused before squealing with laughter.

"Stop that!" Stef scolded in mock outrage. "Cheeky, cheeky things!" This wasn't the first time Callie had poked fun at her over her affectionate expressions, but that she had roped Jude into this was too much.

Chin trembling, she looked at her wife who was in tears. "What do you know, Lena? Our children really do pay attention," she managed, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. Overcome with emotion, she clapped a hand over her mouth as she felt Callie's arms encircle her. _She could not imagine life without either of these children after having them for a few short months._

"Did Mom really say _THAT_?!" Jesus ribbed. Elbowing Brandon in the arm, the two of them joined in the laughter. Their Mom—the tough cop who he knew could beat their ass any day was pure mush when it came to loving them. Even when she was giving them a hard time, they all knew it was out of love and concern.

" _Enough_! I will neither confirm nor deny I said such a thing," Stef pouted as her children crowed with laughter. Standing up next to Callie, she hugged her as tight as she could.

Callie reciprocated, happy for the safety she always felt in the shelter of her mother's arms. And grateful, because she wanted what she said next to remain only between them. "Mom? I'm gonna try really hard to make good decisions."

She felt herself well up as she considered the sort of person that would make her Mom proud if she were still here. It wasn't who she was now. She'd been fighting a lot with Stef again lately and giving her a hard time though most of the time it was undeserved. "I'm going to listen and follow the rules, and not talk back. I promise not to grow up too fast." She fingered the paper she'd been carrying around in her pocket all day—the one she had taken out to practice whenever she had a chance—hoping she'd remembered it all.

"Thank you, sweetness. I appreciate hearing that from you," Stef replied, tucking the moment into her memory.

"So, Callie. What sorts of things are you looking forward to doing now that the adoption is sorted?" Stuart asked. Him and Dana were impatient to share in some of those interests so they could begin bonding with their new grandchildren.

"Uhm, so much!" Callie conceded, barely knowing where to start. "I want to do more art." She'd always wanted to paint but couldn't because there was no good way to store and transport brushes and paint, and canvas. With a forever home came the ability to keep stuff associated with some of the things she wanted to do.

"And do more music and go see a movie, and read…" _Not only could she take library books out but she could buy some if she wanted. Or...could she buy another instrument?_

"I want to go on an overnight field trip with school…" _Without needing permission from DSS!_

"Okay. We'll talk about that one," Lena interjected. They weren't comfortable with that level of independence yet.

Although she was disappointed by the lacklustre reaction, Callie didn't let on. She'd expected as much. "I want to start a multilevel adventure game and be able to finish it."

Stef and Lena grinned at each other. Mike had bought her and Jude Super Mario Galaxy or World or whatever. The kids had no clue!

Callie's self-consciousness crept back when she noticed how disinterested Grams was. It wasn't surprising; Dana wasn't easily impressed by simple things. But just because they were simple didn't mean they weren't special or important. She was really looking forward to getting to do them. Catching a glimpse of the large shipping box sitting by the door, she became emotional. The present from Moms, Grandma, Grams, and Grandpa had been covered in a patchwork of newspaper comics and topped with an oversized purple bow. Ripping away the homebrew wrap job had revealed a plain, slightly dented box. Inside was a bike—mint green with dark purple flowers on the frame. _Her_ bike. Mom had put the wheel and seat on for her so she could try it out. And it'd fit her, perfectly. Somehow, they'd known what size to order.

It was then she knew exactly what to say to get Dana's attention while rankling her nerves. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to pull it off with a straight face but it was too good an opportunity to pass up without trying.

"This is going to be the year I put some fun between my legs," she deadpanned.

"I beg your pardon?" Stef asked, not quite sure she had heard right. She wasn't able to get clarification, however. Chaos erupted when Dana inhaled her water and began coughing. Stuart thumped her on the back rather loudly, which only caused her to cough even more. In the panic, cutlery crashed against the table and chairs scraped across the floor as she and Lena ran to Dana's side.

In the commotion, Callie gestured at her bike box without any of the adults noticing. Jesus and Brandon started to laugh uncontrollably all over again, amidst Mama scolding them for being inconsiderate. Jude and Mariana, who by now had realized they'd missed something and not wanting to be left out, demanded an explanation.

" ** _ENOUGH_**!" Stef bellowed once her mother-in-law recovered.

Callie gulped as a pointed glare was sent in her direction. She had definitely courted attention, but more than she originally intended.

"Young lady, you'd better start explaining yourself. _Now_."

Slowly, Callie met her gaze. Mom was so furious that her voice was a whisper, meaning she didn't have much time to come up with something. "Uhm. Well, I was thinking, I'm thirteen. Thirteen-and-a-half, pretty much," she said casually. She hadn't planned this far, but now that her brothers were in on the joke and had her back, she could wing it. "I've been focusing on taking better care of myself, 'cause like Mama says we only have one body and we need to take care of it and all that. It's going well and I think, maybe, I'm ready to share myself with others," she continued, ignoring the disapproving frowns from Moms as they tried to follow. "Only with people I love, of course—"

"—because it's only _special_ when it's with people you _love_ ," Jesus added as Brandon snorted. This was payback for all the incredibly awkward sex talks Moms had given them.

Somehow Callie managed to keep a straight face as Stef's eyes widened. "I'm okay doing it with more than one person at once. As long as it's not too stressful and they treat me nice, maybe we could make it a regular thing."

"How regular?" Brandon asked, getting in on the fun.

"Dunno, a couple times a week? Don't worry, I'll use protection." Her lips twitched up into a smile but she forced it away before being noticed. The look of horror on Moms' faces was priceless; they were totally fooled. By now, Jesus and Brandon were losing it so hard they were grabbing their stomachs and howling with laughter. Giving up on trying to find out what was so funny, Mariana pouted. Jude, too little to care, shovelled spaghetti enthusiastically into his mouth.

"Wh _—what_ on _earth_ —" Stef sputtered, barely able to grind out her words. She and Lena tried to be as open minded as they could be, but _this_? This was not okay, especially at family dinner. "This discussion right now is beyond inappropriate. Some things are for private and this is one of them," she admonished. "If you want, you, Mama, and I can continue this discussion later. But it is not happening here."

Stef's annoyance finally got to Callie and she broke into a smile. The joke was up.

" ** _What_** **Callie**?" Stef snapped. She wanted to shake her child.

Callie pointed past the adults—who were still crowded around Grams—to the parcel her bike had come in. Her new helmet was perched on top. "Why is it inappropriate to talk about learning to ride my bike?" she asked sweetly, faking naiveté as they all turned around. Frankly, she was impressed with how far she'd gotten. It was her best one yet. "I can't wait so I can go with everyone else. I'll make sure to wear my helmet," she continued, snorting when Mom's mouth fell open.

It took a moment for Stef to put two and two together. Eventually, she broke into nervous laughs over the childish prank she had fallen for. It was a good one, but also one of those times where she had no idea if she should be praising Callie for having them all fooled—or telling her off for bringing toilet humour to the dinner table.

Taking advantage of Stef's inability to talk, Callie ran with it. "Momma. I do _not_ know what's going on with you, but if you're thinking about what I think you are, that's beyond inappropriate. Honestly, I expected better from you," she said, mimicking the way their Mom sounded whenever she reamed them out. "Some things are for private and this is one of them. If you really want to, we can continue that discussion later."

As Callie and her two eldest boys high fived each other, Stef could only give her head a shake. Fearless and bold and resilient, her daughter was going to be the end of her sanity.

"Callie _ADAMS_ ** _FOSTER_**!"

Callie's grin grew wider at hearing a name she never thought would be her's. The one that symbolized where she belonged.

 _She_ was Callie Adams Foster.

* * *

 **Author Note:**

Merry Christmas, everyone. There's so much I want to say but for now, felt it important to update. Love, ~b.

 **Amended AN** (Dec 30): There is an inaccuracy in this update: as petitioners, Stef and Lena should have been sitting together with Callie and Jude. I tried to change it but in the end chose to keep it that way to make room for antics.


	54. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _Two weeks after Adoption Day_ …

Stef was going to regret this tomorrow, she knew it. But Callie and Jude had been asking and asking to ride their bikes and her guilty conscience wouldn't allow her to put it off any longer. Due to the sheer number of tasks requiring their attention following the adoption, along with late nights at the precinct, she'd already reneged on her promise to take them several times and she'd be damned if she broke it again. There'd been some opportunities to practice with Stuart before he and Dana had flown home. But as Jude had pointed out, that wasn't the same as going with his mothers.

Initially, she and Lena had worried they'd have five grumpy kids the next day from being up past their bedtimes. That being said, adoption had put an end to Callie and Jude's journey through foster care, as well as marked the end of theirs as fosterers. That deserved celebration. Plus, tomorrow was Sunday. Her Mom had offered to drop by the house early to wrangle the kids so she and Lena could sleep in.

So here they were, at the track loop next to the recreation centre at nine o'clock in the evening. She had come straight from work to meet Lena and the kids there. Rubberized pavement wasn't exactly ideal for bike riding but it was the only place with adequate lighting. Plus, Callie's bike was too large for training wheels so the surface would provide some cushioning from spills.

Excited to cheer on their new siblings, the rest of the kids gathered off to one side with the kazoos leftover from what they'd smuggled into the courtroom. Callie and Jude took turns going around while Moms alternated between cheerleading and spotting whoever was riding. Currently, Lena had a watchful eye on Jude as he rounded a corner, getting a feel for how far to crank the handle without toppling. She smiled to herself, proud when he nearly tipped from overcorrecting his turn but quickly recovered. He was doing really well and didn't need hands on help anymore. The novelty of having a bike having worn off, Jude had stopped sneaking into the garage to take it out on his own. And while disappointed when they couldn't take him out, he often found something else to do with minimal complaint.

However, the absence of opportunity to go riding with Moms—specifically Mom—had been bothering him much more than he'd been letting on, which they learned about on the way home from Dr. Wiseman's one day.

 _Reaching across the center console, Stef squeezed Lena's hand. It had been a rough appointment, one that had dredged up Callie's feelings around their role as her adoptive parents and what it meant for her relationship with Colleen. The topic had then shifted unexpectedly when Jude asked what would happen if she and Lena ever split up. Given that neither of them had ever considered divorce, his worry had surprised them. They were glad to have Dr. Wiseman as they stumbled through an explanation of custody and visitation—referencing Brandon's relationship with Mike as an example—with reassurances all of the kids would stay together. Though the scenario was unlikely, Jude needed to hear the logistics. It was difficult to determine how much had been absorbed, but during the parent debrief they agreed that the what-ifs of potential disruption would remain a fixture as the kids adjusted to having permanency and stability in their lives. To help ease the transition, they were encouraged to revisit the goals they'd set over the past couple months._

 _While the kids had snacks in the car, Moms broached the idea of starting on the ones requiring parent participation. The goals had been written some time ago, soon after Jude had found his bike in the alley. At that time, Callie didn't have one, so she had prioritized camping in the backyard. Remembering her own bike now that her brother had mentioned his, she was waffling on her choice. Their youngest, perhaps not wanting his project to be overshadowed by his older sister's or to share his time with Moms, vehemently disagreed. The both of them were now yelling over each other from the back row to get their attention._

 _"Okay! Both of you! I get that you're excited, but we need you to bring down the volume a notch. One at a time!" Stef begged. Traffic had slowed considerably due to an accident on the main drag and she was trying to contend with impatient drivers cutting in without signalling. The kids were making it hard to focus._

 _She sighed when she caught glimpse of the fallen expressions in the rearview. The pair were simply over the moon at this idea of being able to ride a bike—something so many people took for granted. It was easy to know what these children wanted: smiles always reached wild-looking eyes and words tumbled without restraint. She and Lena had talked about how grateful they were to have their parents help with getting Callie her own as her Adoption Day present. Feeling bad for raining on their parade, Stef was about to apologize when her son started voicing his disagreement again._

 _"You_ ** _CAN'T_** _! You can't just go change it like that," Jude protested, incredulous. "You wanted to do camping," he sputtered. Plus, he'd already ridden a bit without his training wheels with Grandpa helping, and the thought of having to share his time with Callie when he was already so close to being able to do it himself just sucked. "I started first. You have to wait."_

 _The girl frowned; Jude's reasoning wasn't really fair. There was no reason to wait—his interests didn't come before her's. "Yeah well that's not gonna happen. 'Cause I'm gonna be waiting a long time for you to figure it out and I'm not doing that."_

 _"_ ** _MOM_** _!" Jude screeched. "That's not true!" He'd almost gotten it_!

 _Knowing it'd bug her brother, Callie smirked. "Moms, can I swap my goal?" she asked casually._

 _"You're not allowed to do that! Is Callie allowed to do that?" Jude exclaimed. They'd already written it on the worksheet: he was going to learn to ride his bike with Mom. Callie was doing something else._

 _"Alright, time out!" Lena called. It was getting too loud in the car. On the verge of a tantrum, her youngest was whiny and bouncing in his seat. "Remember, these were just ideas. There is no reason why Callie can't change her mind about what she would like to do with us. But Callie, if your main reason for picking your bike is because you want to antagonize your brother, perhaps it's better to go with camping."_

 _"Yeah. And bud, there's no reason why Callie has to wait," Stef added, sensing some jealousy there. "Mama and I can help you and Callie learn to ride your bikes at the same time."_

 _Jude shook his head. He'd been supposed to learn with Mom, but she had had very little time for him lately. If Callie wanted to do the same and also needed Mom, there'd be even less for him. "WHEN?" he demanded, face contorted into a scowl. "You always say we will but you're always working late and it's dark when you come home and then Mama says I need to go to bed even though you SAID you would take me, but you never do," he said all in one breath before adding petulantly, "I'm_ ** _never_** _gonna get to go!"_

 _"I know, baby. You've been very patient and I am sorry our plans keep falling through. But we will get to go." She bit her lip, feeling awful about the broken promises that had shaken her son's confidence in her. "I've been trying my hardest but after work isn't always the best time. We talked about how things can be unexpected at my job, remember?" she coaxed, catching him nod in the mirror. "And well, there's been a lot of those…"_

 _It was an explanation, not an excuse of course. A combination of being backlogged and shortstaffed at work had her doing a lot of overtime. Now more than ever, Stef felt the need for a more reliable schedule that would allow her to be at home more._

 _Downtrodden, Jude remained silent._

 _"Do you remember the suggestion Mama and I had when stuff doesn't go as planned?" Stef asked, fearing a complete meltdown._

 _"No," the boy grumbled even though he did remember something about being understanding instead of pitching a fit. He didn't feel like being understanding, though. She wasn't listening. "Mom..." he whined._

 _"I'm up for giving you a hand if you are," Lena interjected, redirecting in an effort to cheer up her son. Though, whenever Stef had to stay late at the station, she was also swamped once she got in the door. On those nights, it was all about getting the kids fed and to bed._

 _"Maybe I can learn to ride first so I can teach Jude if you don't have time," Callie offered sweetly, knowing that would rile him up._

 _"No! You promised that_ ** _YOU_** _would!" Annoyed, the boy booted the back of the driver's seat. He didn't want anyone else. He wanted Mom to not break her promise._

 _Shocked by his outburst and knowing Mom wouldn't like that, Callie cuffed him on the back of the head. "Don't_ ** _do_** _that!"_

 _"OW—" he yelped as he tried to get her back. "Mama!"_

 _Rattled by the unexpected kick and the altercation from the back seat, Stef gripped the wheel with both hands. "_ ** _HEY_** _!" she scolded, loud enough to capture their attention. "Young man. You do not kick. This is not how you deal with frustration. We use our words."_

 _Jude began to tear up. He was the one who'd gotten hurt but Mom was mad at him. Now she really wouldn't ever take him for a bike ride. "But Callie—"_

 _"Ah ah. We're talking about you right now," Stef said, putting a stop to his excuse. "You don't worry about your sister." She waited as he mumbled an apology. "Thank you. Next time this happens we will have a problem." Thoroughly chastised, her son hung his head. "We need to be as safe as possible when in the car. That means not giving whoever is driving a surprise. Am I making myself clear?"_

 _Lena turned around to make eye contact with their daughter. They'd been talking a lot about her getting physical so she was not impressed at what had just taken place. "Callie. What have we told you about hitting? And who deals with behaviour in our home?" she questioned rhetorically. "I'd like a verbal response when I'm speaking to you, please. If you choose not to talk, we can continue at home" she warned when the girl didn't offer so much as a response._

 _Callie averted her gaze, feeling sheepish at being told off in front of Jude. "You and Mom. Sorry."_

 _"I appreciate your apology. But I'm not who you should be apologizing to."_

 _"Sorry for hitting you, Judy." Callie rolled her eyes. It hadn't been that hard. Considering her brother's dilemma sincerely for the first time and struck with an idea, she grabbed the folder in the backseat that always came with them to Dr. Wiseman's. Leafing through and finding the goals sheet, she tried to shove it between the front seats. Unable to reach, she undid her seatbelt. "You did promise you'd teach him, Mom. See, you wrote that you would in the action plan box!" she piped up, finally succeeding in pushing it through the gap._

 _'Oh my God," Stef muttered under her breath. It was impossible to get anything past these kids. Startling when the automated alert for a disengaged restraint came through the car's speakers, she slowed to a stop. Her daughter was bent on getting her on heart medication._

 _Callie fumbled with her seatbelt, clever enough to know she'd be in hot water if she didn't buckle back up. She smiled innocently when Mom whipped her head around, catching her in the act. "Hi, Mom."_

 _"Don't you_ ** _ever_** _unbuckle your seatbelt in a moving vehicle again."_

 _"Yes, Momma. I forgot—" Callie began apologizing before being cut off by the SUV tattling on her._

 ** _"—PLEASE FASTEN PASSENGER SEATBELT."_**

 _A horn blasted from behind as Stef waited for her precious cargo to be fastened in properly, elevating her blood pressure even more. Once she started moving again, she waved at the impatient driver. Recognizing a street name, she took advantage of a gap in the traffic to cross over to the right lane She needed a break._

 _"Babe…" Lena said quietly, holding onto her seat. Stef wasn't speeding but she was driving as if on a mission. "Honey…" This was not their usual route home._

 _She didn't say anything more as her wife kept driving before pulling over beside an old playground. The kind with wood beams and rickety metal slides that would get way too hot in full sun. There was even one of those metal climbing domes she hadn't seen in ages._

 _Hopping out, Stef pulled open Jude's door and helped him down from his booster. "Out," she ushered. "Out, out, out! Both of you need to blow off some stink." For the sake of her sanity, the children needed a chance to tire themselves out. Plus, it'd give her and Lena a moment together._

 _"Where are you gonna be?" Jude asked, worried. They'd been bad, so Moms might be leaving them._

 _Stef, who immediately knew he was checking because he was afraid they'd drive off without them, pointed to a nearby bench. "Right over there. No one is getting back into the car for at least fifteen minutes." Weighing the risk of a lost set of car keys against Jude having some peace of mind, she dropped them into the pocket of his cargo pants. "Can you keep these safe for me until we need to go?"_

 _He nodded, thrilled to be keeper of the keys. "Yup! I can!"_

 _Stef tousled his hair. "Off you go, then. Have fun!" Callie was already gone, halfway up the jungle gym. "What's up?" she asked when his expression suddenly became serious._

 _"I wish I had a key to give you..." he said shyly._

 _"Oh yeah? A key to what?"_

 _He grinned, pure unbridled joy stretched across his face as he slapped a palm to his chest. He reminded her so much of Jesus at this age. "To my heart, Mommy_! _"_

 _Before she could respond, he was off chasing his sister._

* * *

"Alright! Fourth time's a charm," Stef said confidently. She pushed the kickstand up and stabilized the bike so her daughter could climb on. They'd done a few runs around the track with her pushing—providing just enough momentum so Callie could keep her balance as she mastered pedalling and steering at the same time. This time, she planned to let go, although Callie didn't know that yet.

One foot on the ground, Callie reached up to adjust her helmet. She gripped the handlebars—knuckles white and squished up beside her Mom's—before steadying her breath and bringing her other foot up onto its pedal.

"Oh no, no, no. Momma is not doing all the work this time," Stef said when Callie relied on her to keep her fully upright. "Put your foot back down—tippy toes, that a girl," she praised as her daughter followed through, albeit with some hesitation. "You're going to push off—I'll help you get started. Once you're off, get your other foot up and start pedalling. I'll let you steer like we did last time and when you're stable, I'll let go.

"Don't overthink it. You're doing great," Stef reassured as her daughter stared wide eyed. She always got nervous at the beginning.

Callie swallowed. That sounded easier said than done, but it was now or never. "Kay. Ready."

"Atta girl."

Once Callie pushed off, Stef followed at a quick pace—one hand firmly gripping the seat, the other on the handlebar. Soon it turned to a light jog to prevent Callie from tipping as her foot slipped in the scramble to get her other foot onto its pedal. That maneuver was still tricky for her. "Good?" she asked when she could barely keep up. The girl was really gunning it.

"Yup! Let go—let go of the handlebar," Callie told her, concentrating on steering. Things were starting to come together. With her Mom taking up the back, she wouldn't be falling over anytime soon.

Stef laughed, loving this confidence from her daughter. Callie was totally ready. "Okay! One…two… _three…"_ she counted. _"_ Here we go!" Although she was no longer holding onto the seat, she kept her hand just behind it as she ran alongside for another few yards. If Callie fell now, she'd never hear the end of it. As soon as she was confident her daughter didn't need her anymore, Stef slowed down. _It was time to let her go_. Holding her breath, she watched Callie take it from there. The bike wobbled with one overcorrection, then another, and recovered as Callie picked up speed.

Turning to her wife, Stef gave two thumbs up. "Look, Mama!" she bragged, waving jazz hands. "No hands!"

"It's all you, baby! That's all you!" Stef praised when her daughter looked for her, realizing for the first time she was without an assist. "Eye on the prize, Cal, nowhere else!" she called when the lapse in attention caused the bike to veer.

" ** _MOMS_! _WATCH ME_! ** **I'M DOING IT**!" Callie shouted. Buoyed by newfound confidence and adrenaline, she dared herself to cruise standing. Lowering herself back down, she pedalled faster, relishing in the cool air in her face as it whipped her hair around. It was every ounce of amazing as she had imagined it'd be and the most free she'd felt in a long time. As if she was leaving everything behind that had hurt and held her back.

Seeing the curved corner of the track approaching, she slowed to clear it. She cut it a bit close but made it and heard her family cheer and the kazoos blowing. Throwing her head back in delight, she panicked for a moment when the bike wobbled. A cue to pick up speed again.

"You're doing awesome, Bug. Keep her steady—nice and easy," Stef instructed, heart in her mouth. "Nice! **_Very_** nicely **_done_**!" She swelled with pride as she stood beside her wife and kids, still puffing from that last run.

"She's doing it!" Lena whispered excitedly as she held onto Stef's arm. No matter how old their kids were when they learned, it was always a big moment for them, too. It marked the first steps of independence—the natural cleaving away from parents that took place with growth. With their bike, they could go anywhere.

Taking the next corner was a bit dodgy. Trying to slow down, Callie pedalled backwards to brake like she'd practiced. Her foot slipped in her haste, and she clambered to return her foot to its pedal. Finding herself dangerously close to the edge of the track, Callie cranked left. Still going at full speed, the maneuver caused the front wheel to stick, pitching her off the side before the bike fell down on top of her.

Callie laid there stunned, trying not to cry as footsteps ran to catch up to her. Knee starting to throb, she drew in a trembling breath as Mom pulled the bike off of her and helped her up.

"That sucked." With things going so well, she hadn't expected them to end this way.

Wrapping an arm around her daughter to bring her close, Stef pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Oh, honey. Falling is no fun," she acknowledged, sympathizing with her discouragement. "But you did so well. That was a great run and we're so proud of you!" The way it'd ended didn't erase all of that progress.

She winced, noticing the friction burn on Callie's calf and an angry-looking scrape to her elbow—which had cushioned the fall. "Ouch…" Stef sympathized. No doubt, that would've been painful. "We'll flush that out and get a bandaid on when we get to the car. Do you want to have one more go around the track before we leave?" she asked, giving a choice because she didn't want the fall to be the reason Callie stopped.

Callie shook her head. "I want to pack it in," she said, on the verge of tears.

"Alright. That's probably for the best. It's getting late." Together, they walked back to their family, Callie glued to her side as she pushed the bike with one hand. The rest of the kids were kicking around a soccer ball and seemed like they were winding down.

"I'm going to take Callie to the car. Are you okay with the others and the anti-starvation kit?" she asked Lena once they caught up. "Jude can walk his bike and someone else can take Callie's?"

Lena snorted at Stef's reference to the wheeled cooler. Adding two growing kids to the mix had increased food intake exponentially, requiring a change in habits to keep their budget reasonable. As a result, they had started lugging snacks, sandwiches, and drinks everywhere. They often joked it was their sixth child and would ask each other if it'd 'been fed' before going out.

"We'll be fine, you guys go ahead. You okay, Bug?" She exchanged a sad smile with her wife when Callie slid closer to Stef without a word. Their daughter needed some time with her Mom.

"Thanks, babe. We'll see you soon."

Back at the car, Stef rifled through the first aid kit for the gauze, bandaids, and antibacterial spray. She patted the back of the trunk. "In a moment I'm going to ask you to hop up, but we need to rinse your arm first," she stated calmly. Blood was beginning to bead on Callie's elbow. Finding a new water bottle, she cracked open the seal and placed the gauze directly over the top to slow the flow.

Horrified, Callie stared at her. "I don't want you to—it's gonna sting!" she balked.

"Just for a moment, baby. We need to make sure it's clean," Stef gently reasoned. "We'll spray it right after with the Bactine and get a bandaid on, and it'll feel so much better, okay?" She pointed to the label on the canister, hoping to do some more convincing. "There's a numbing agent in it."

Callie drew back further. "I don't want to be numb, though!"

Stef sighed. Her daughter had gotten hurt and was probably tired and deserved some understanding. "Let's do it quick to get it over with," she said patiently. That was a trick she'd learned; that sometimes, talking about the plan as if it were happening eventually got compliance. Not always, but sometimes.

She was relieved when Callie rolled her shoulder back, allowing her to access to the area. "It's not so bad…" she soothed as her daughter stiffened at the sting from water hitting raw skin. She hurried to get the cap off the Bactine. "This is going to feel cold but won't hurt. It's to kill any germs left behind." Once finished, she helped her climb one-armed, up into the trunk before smoothing a bandaid over the scrape. "There. Good as new."

Knowing Callie needed a little more fussing over, she held shaky knees steady. She could understand her child's disheartenment. Everyone who had learned to ride a bike had experienced the same highs and lows, frustrations and exhilaration. " _Baby…_ what's wrong? _"_ she murmured as tears pooled. Mother's instinct told her there was more to Callie's sadness than the fall off the bike.

The girl shrugged, sniffling. She was a bit shaken up but mostly, she was overwhelmed with emotion by everything that had gone _right_. Specifically, the realization she'd expected Mom to come running when she was on the ground. Years of getting used to disappointment when no one showed to make anything better had all lead to this moment of waiting for someone to come and fix it. She wasn't alone anymore.

At a loss for words, Callie threw her arms around her. She was thankful for the space Mom was giving her at the moment without pushing for an answer.

"What's this for?" Stef questioned. "Oh, sweetness. You okay?" she consoled, feeling Callie's shoulders quake. She laughed softly, her humour derived from a place of sympathy, relief, and gratitude she could read her daughter.

"No," Callie admitted, comfortable to own and speak her truth. She held on tighter. "But I will be."

Stef felt her breath catch at the quiet determination that things would get better.

More than that, the words gave her hope. In many ways, it was Callie validating their family as a safe place for her to complete this transformation: so she could move forward from the current situation to where she hoped she could be.

"You will be okay, baby girl. _More_ than okay."

They were finally coming out of the dark.

Not unscathed—but not broken, either.


	55. AN: Thank You

**Author Note:**

Hi everyone. We made it! I hope the ending provides some closure; it does for me.

I say that with some sadness because this story has been a huge part of my life for the last couple years—preserving a space for me to recharge each day and seeing me through life transitions. Writing was a way for me to process what I went through in childhood, which all came to the forefront when I became a Mom. Now I have some understanding of what happened to me and a healthier way to move forward. It's hard not to get choked up at the idea of not having IUW anymore.

I must sound like a broken record but I am so proud of the labour of love the story turned out to be. All your feedback and suggestions changed and developed the plot in ways I never would've imagined. Thank you, because the final product is so much richer for it. I am especially indebted to the lovely **theypreferthetermpeople** , my beta reader and editor turned friend, who took IUW under her wing and ran with it. It's been marvellous having someone so patient and detail-oriented look at the material with a critical eye. Without her, there would be a lot more dashes, grammatical errors, and double negatives!

More than all of that...countless messages exchanged over a new idea or details that needed ironing out, led to many friendships that are near and dear to my heart. I'm filled with gratitude and awe (and okay, maybe a few tears) whenever I think of where this work took us.

A sequel is currently in the very early stages and quite a ways from being ready. A few short stories will hopefully go live over the next month or so. Some are chapter extensions, while others are reader requests to go back to early days when Callie first moved in. In the meantime, requests are welcome. No promises I'll get to all of them, but they're considered with love, curiosity, and appreciation. Always.

Thank you. Thank you a million times over.

~b


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